So I’m here in Portugal with the ever reliable Gina G. Also we have this time with us, Laaminlin, who’s here on a jolly really ( unpaid but not with any qualification in caring that I can tell ) She’s company for Gina at least. There’s something unique about the chitter chatter of ladies that men can’t / won’t ever understand.

It’s been quite hot really, for late October, and thankfully the alcohol here is cheap.
We have been every day to the supermarket because that’s a pursuit that ( mystifyingly ) the ladies seem to enjoy.

3 fellas would have gone once, 10 minutes after arriving, bought everything for a week, and then only had to go back on day 4, having run out of beer because having bought enough for 8 days it was too irresistible to last more than 4.

The other night, unfamiliar with the bed I’m in and the rail I pull on to move a bit, I actually fell out of bed, onto the floor.
Now that’s a first, and not one I’m in a hurry to do again. I’m there on the floor, it’s absolutely pitch black, and I’m shouting for help. The mattress has fallen off, as has the bed rail and the pillow, and the sheet is actually over my head. I can’t get it off because it’s also underneath me. When you can’t feel most of yourself it’s very weird to fall out of bed in a pitch black room. It must be like that in zero gravity In space.
Just like in Space, no one could hear me scream – but that’s because both Gina and Laaminlin are both a bit deaf.

Eventually Laaminlin enters the room. I can’t see her because it’s too dark. I say ‘ turn the bloody light on, I’ve fallen out of bed !’

Where’s the light switch, she says. I’m on the floor with a sheet over my head, and she’s asking me to direct her to the light switch.
On thé wall, of course, I shout, near thé door, where all bloody bedroom light switches are!

But I haven’t been here before, so how do I know, she says….

I feel like im in a bizarre dream, and I might wake up.

After a long wait, the light goes on. I can’t see anything because there’s a sheet over my head.

I hear a shriek, and a ‘ OH MY GOD!’
Followed by an ‘ OH MY GOD!’ again.

Very helpful, im thinking, shouting that… and that’s all. Never mind me, on the floor unable to move, With a sheet over my head.

For Christ’s sake get Gina, I shout, longing for someone helpful to arrive.

I hear different footsteps and Gina’s voice. She pulls the sheet off my head. That’s a help. I was beginning to wonder if I’d just gone blind.

Now here’s a stroke of luck ( aka me being bloody organised ). I had bought a mobile hoist 2 years ago, for Portugal, but the bloody thing stopped working after 2 days.
I reasoned it was most likely to be the battery that needed replacement. Obvs if you buy from the Disabled sites they are about a hundred thousand pounds… but a search on Ebay for a battery of the same spec got me one for £28.
Well I’d got one and brought it out, this time, and connected it to the hoist that morning. On charge all day, I hoped it would now work, because Laaminlin and Gina combined aren’t strong enough to lift a frying pan, let alone a paraplegic stiffened with metal rods, that is on the floor.
Hallelujah it works! Thank God ( principally for my afore thought) and for Gina being experienced in the ways of hoisting. As Gina did everything useful and helpful ( accompanied by some more OH MY GOD’s from Laaminlin ) I was lifted like Cleopatra ( by her slaves ) into the air.
That enabled the putting back of the mattress onto the bed, with the pillow and the bedsheet, before I was lowered gracefully back into position. Laaminlin I think did some minor sheet adjustments, no use to anyone, but I imagine she felt it was ‘ making everything nice ‘ ( or something lost on me ).

No more dramas.. I hoped. Whatever else can go wrong?!
Read on, dear Reader.

The next day I bought a bag of chestnuts. They seem to be a diet staple here in Olhao.
I asked Laaminlin if she could ‘ cook ‘ them in the oven. She confidently took them from me, put half of them in a baking tray, and slid them skilfully into the ( preheated ) oven.
Now there’s a woman who has experience of roasting chestnuts, I thought.

Well I thought wrong, clearly.

After about 5 minutes, there’s a bloody great BANG! Then another, and more!

Laaminlin runs into the kitchen.

Now here’s a thing. What do you do when they’re something in the oven that’s clearly highly explosive?
Well obviously you turn off the oven and just wait for it to stop happening. At least it’s all self contained in the METAL BOX THATS THE OVEN, right?

Ahhh but that’s what logical thinking peeps do.
Not Laaminlin… she OPENS THE OVEN IMMEDIATELY FOR A 👀.

By this time i too am by the kitchen door.
There are brown chestnuts shooting across the room, their contents going in EVERY DIRECTION.
Laaminlin is cowering in a corner.
Literally the whole room is being covered in small fragments of chestnut.

Now I’m just thinking ‘ why oh why did she think opening the door was the best plan?!’

3 days later and bits of chestnut are still on the walls, windows and the doors.

Mind you, heaven forbid I mention it.. because here’s the thing.. I SHOULD HAVE TOLD HER NOT TO JUST PUT THEM IN THE OVEN…! I should have known what to do with chestnuts, so it was clearly all my responsibility. That they were taken from me and confidently slid Into the oven, without first having the first bloody clue how to actually roast chestnuts was ….. MY FAULT!
Ahhh if Only i was less of an idiot.

Laaminlin was in charge of only tea making for a couple of days, then revealed herself to be ok with fruit salads as well…. but not crunchy nut breakfast cereal ( that in her world need the milk put on it around 3 hours before you eat it, so that it was like mush ). I pointed out that the clue was in the ‘ crunchy’ part of the name, but that was apparently me being demanding.

Tomorrow I see my dear friend, Lee, that will always be my best ever carer… even tho my mind was dark in 2018, we laughed every day a hundred times. If only Lee had come back to the UK with me, but his parents were living in Portugal, and hey it’s a lot more sunny than London is.
Obvs Gina is just as good ( in case she reads this post !! )

As for Laaminlin, don’t consider a job in caring or catering. I’m sure you have other skills though – like drinking wine and going to the supermarket EVERY day to get the things you could have bought any of the last times you went there.

♥️bless.

The Court expérience was uncomfortable, obviously. I felt the judge’s ‘ sympathy’ was with one side rather than the other. The legal standpoint is quite clear – as the ‘ conditions’ were decreed by the last Judge in 2019.
So one of us is right here, and the other one isn’t.

There’s now a further court date in January.
Whoopie – more legal costs to prove what’s already obvious.

So the Court stress was followed by the usual flight stress ( to Portugal the next day )

The bits I’m in charge of are fine. Getting to the train station, pre booking the train ramp assistance ( tho at Brentford station the Guard had no idea I had booked assistance ) Train to airport terminal, baggage check in etc.

The bits not organised by me are the problem. The main issue is the ABSOLUTELY INEPT assistance team in Gatwick.
Why the assistance team can’t actually assist, rather than make it all a torrid experience is odd. The employment culture in the UK is ridiculous. Because it’s illegal to discriminate, we end up with staff who are completely unfit for purpose in the role.
What does a disabled bloke of 14 and a half stone need for transfers from seat to seat? Errrr people who are strong enough to actually do that, maybe? Nope, the staff are ‘ ooh I don’t want to end up with a bad back so I’m not going to assist you ‘.
Right, so what do we do then?
As soon as I show AMY signs of frustration… it’s ‘ there’s no need to be rude!’

I’m in a completely no win situation. They won’t help me and then it’s me that’s in the wrong for asking how that can possibly bloody be ?!
At one point there were 7 people, five men and 2 women. One lady was Gina, who was the oldest of the seven. The other lady was a small female.

Who did the actual lifting? The 2 ladies. I told the blokes they should be ashamed of themselves. Their reaction? Defiance. 🤷🤦‍♂️

I went by road to my place. It’s 8 miles by Triride. Dangerous on the N125 – I think it’s a motorway.
Anyway I do what I need to.

The weather is nice!

Great seeing my homies from The Unfortunates, who made their way to my place for wine and Morrison’s ( ‘Best’ of course ) pizza. Bolt the Dawg was as usual the best of us, with the cleverest things to say.

Lovely to see my little friend from oop North too. Fun times In London were had in our whirlwind tour of the Sights!

Court hearing on Wednesday, and it’s galling to know that my legal costs in what is surely a cut and dry case still mount up. Every 10 minutes of lawyer time is a week of care that I’ll lose cash for.
Jeez, my Ex. When will she just go away/ be struck by lightning?

Cheap theatre tickets tonight. I could do with an early night but it’s not to be… sleep when you’re dead, right ( and I’ve almost been several times ).

Massive thanks to Toby for once again fixing ( or almost ) my wheelchair. Tririding at 40mph has clearly thrashed it and I’m going to have to buy yet another chair.

£5000!

And that’s why I need the bloody money I’ve got coming.
It’s not for fancy holidays or fast cars!!

Me n our Lin, from Swansea, went to see ‘Iphigenia in Splott’ the other day. Unlikely name for a play – posh name ( ancient goddess ) and a district in Cardiff ( known for how rough it is ).

Iffy.. or If, as she was known as, did a fairly respectable Kaaaaaadiff accent throughout – not the most attractive of the various Welsh accent flavours, if truth be told .. but anyway.
She was a skanky lowlife type, who then showed her vulnerable and soft ( inside ) nature by falling for a double amputee veteran soldier.

I won’t spoil the rest, but it was sad. Linda cried. Lots did.

We had a few to drink, fair play.
I was amazed to discover it’s even cheaper in Wetherspoons than the last time I went ( 3 years ago ). £9.90 she said … for a large glass (?) said I.
No, for a bottle… of ( very drinkable ) Chardonnay.

Don’t ask me how they do it, but blimey, the other day I was charged £24 for 2 glasses ( and similar quality ).

Crackin’ then. Well Tidy.

Someone should write a play about a paraplegic who gets disastrous surgery that makes things far worse. After 6 years of legal battle, the Surgeon side settle ( obviously accepting no wrongdoing.. like it is in these matters ).
Then his ex wife goes after his ( very moderate and far less than he’ll actually need to pay carers) award.. because her lifestyle has to be more important than him being able to get into and out of bed, and washing. Well clearly.. anyone can see that !
In the play he’s about to have ( yet another uncomfortable and stressful ) Court hearing ( the next week )

It’d make a great play, to be honest, except it’s too far fetched to be credible.

Right ?

Last night I went to see Morrisey. He of The Smiths.
Totally Cult figure.
But without everyone dying at the end.
Well hopefully?

Journeying via iBot is far more complicated than by Triride. 6 buses in total and 4 tube trains. Cold and dark and iBot has a fault where it keeps wanting to be shut down. No, not helpful!

Morrisey was great. The travel makes it really questionable as to whether it’s worth it.
It’s Brixton – that’s a long way from Brentford in an iBot.

Thanks to luscious Lin from Swansea for coming. Her first time accompanying me across town. F me it’s stressful for her, and she’s not the one in the chair.

People are blind to the 6 foot Transformer heading towards them. Heads down on phones, with ear buds in. No one sees me or hears me. The lifts are full of able young people that just can’t be arsed to walk. They don’t move for me. I push in anyway… because well, I have no choice – they do.

I don’t win any popularity prizes on public transport, but honestly, if I wasn’t ’ forthright’ I’d be late for everything.

The ex wife situation is on my mind constantly. She is only interested in my downfall.. but good luck with that. Immorality won’t triumph. That I know. No judge will see it her way.

The other day I posted a review about a Yankee Candle I’d bought having no smell.

Today I read this..!

Yankee Candle reviews predict surge in Covid cases
Scientists find customers leave poor ratings for the scented product at times when Covid cases rise as people suffer from a loss of smell
By
Joe Pinkstone,
SCIENCE CORRESPONDENT
10 October 2022 • 2:17pm
Reviews of scented candles can act as a “heads up” for a spike in Covid cases, scientists believe.

A surge in unusual one-star reviews of Yankee Candles, from customers who claim their product has no scent, is likely driven by people unknowingly suffering from Covid-induced anosmia, the loss of sense of smell and taste.

The trend was first spotted around Christmas of 2020 and again in winter last year.

Now, with festive candles being added to more shopping baskets as autumn draws in, customers are once again venting their displeasure online.

Dr Nicholas Beauchamp, an assistant professor in political science at Northeastern University in Massachusetts, analysed almost 10,000 Amazon reviews of four best-selling Yankee products between 2018 and 2021.

Dr Beauchamp established a clear link between Yankee Candle bad reviews and Covid cases, writing a paper published earlier this year and presented at the Proceedings of the International AAAI Conference on Web and Social Media.

He said he used Yankee reviews because digital traces of Covid are elusive due to “the infrequency of discussions of smell online”.

I think I must have had Covid. No idea I did… but I definitely can’t smell the candle as I used to.
Well I never. 😳

I have been up against it recently.
My ex wife is still Hell bent on a ( doomed to fail ) mission of financial retribution. My daughters ally by default with her, and a recent Ex has decided that any hurt she can do me must be a good thing…

The Sorority Alliance hath fury… for sure, though misguided fury.

It’s possible that they may be Crowdfunding for my termination.

I don’t recall a whole lot of medieval history from my early school days, but one phrase has always stuck with me – one that Henry the Second uttered … it was ‘ when will someone rid me of this meddlesome priest ?’

Mmmm substitute ‘ ex wife’ for ‘priest’ and it’s perfect.

Until recently I was of the opinion that if more countries were led by women, there’d be less war.
Now, thinking about it, I’m not at all sure. Women, when they put their minds to it, are far more unkind than men.

And are certainly just as vengeful, with a shocking level of vitriol.
Oh, and scheming.

Thankfully there are also some lovely ones that aren’t like that, too.

Until they too, turn 😳😂

So I’m invited to a party, by HostNation, the organisation that I signed up to, and met by refugee buddy.

The lady that organised it was very keen for me to go.
Yesterday I’d messaged her to say it was going to be tricky as I had a later commitment in any case.

Today she phoned to persuade me to go.
Now clearly, they know I’m in a wheelchair. .. she offered to help with a taxi for me, to ‘ make it easier’.

I just had an inkling that I should check Accessibilty.. at the venue.

I asked the lady and she said.. yes I think it is, but I’ll check…

Alarm bells time. You ‘ think’ it is? You haven’t made absolutely certain that it is, before trying to persuade me to come?

So I caught a Tube train and wheeled to the address.

Just the 3 steps outside

And the 7 more inside.

It’s dawned on me that my ‘inhibition’ seems to be getting me into trouble increasingly.

To me, if something is true, then it can’t be wrong to say it, you see.
Increasingly though, it’s a case of me being told ‘ you can’t say that !! ‘.

I find being told that quite confusing, and actually surprising. I mean, if you are in a private situation with someone, and you talk about something that’s factual, whether it be about me, about them, or about someone else.. well then how bad can that be?
But it seems that facts seem irrelevant to lots of people. More important is not talking about something, and being ‘ vanilla ‘ about everything really.

For example, I talked to a lady on the phone a while back. She told me that she was going to ‘lose 2 stones this summer’. Well being very pro exercise and diet, I was positive about her wish.

Then I met her a week later, and we had a really fun couple of hours. Yes, I could see that without 2 stones she would be better off.

So I asked her about her strategy for losing the 2 stones.
She looked at me ‘ angrily’.
I asked why ?

She said ‘ how dare you!’

I said ‘ what do you mean? You told me you were going to lose 2 stones, and I’m just asking you how you intend to do it ?’

She told me I should like her as she was, not have a ‘ jock attitude’ and that she was tired of abusive, controlling men.

I didn’t know what to say. I was shocked. She’d told me about her weight loss plan and I’d shown an interest. Surely it would have been worse not to care? Isn’t it better that I’m with her on the Health Drive?

Well she got really cross.. instead, insulted me and I gave her some back. She left, and that was that!

Ok now I’ve told people that tale, and people seem to ‘ side with her’.

The point is that in my brain I’ve said nothing bad?! On the contrary I’m congratulating her on her plan.

So it’s seems that I see things differently to other people, then. To me,nothing is ‘awkward’.
I mean, I get the principle of course. I’m trying to think of an example, as I write. I’ve just imagined meeting someone who I know had a dad/ brother who was a mass murderer. I guess people would avoid talking about that to the person? That might be a subject they’d avoid?
But I wouldn’t. I’d just ask questions, without embarrassment. Im thinking this through now, and thinking perhaps that makes me unusual, right?

I mean,if it happened, and was therefore a fact, then knowing they know the fact, then what’s wrong with me mentioning it?

It works all ways though – if it’s a ‘positive’ thing then I’d say it too. If a lady had a particularly impressive bodily feature… then I wouldn’t think it wrong to compliment her on that. Again I’m
thinking this through. I think that makes me odd, again?

In my accident I had frontal lobe concussion. People that have known me for decades say ‘ nah you’ve always been like that – no stop button’ and laughed a lot. But now I think it’s different. Before I must have had ‘ diplomacy’ to have been able to do my job. You have to ‘ act very professionally ‘ as an optometrist, and I didn’t ever get into hot water, for decades. So I must have been able to zip it, right?

Now I don’t seem able to ‘ not say ‘ if it’s factual and it comes into my head.

I get told I’m unkind/ rude here and there, and I’m genuinely amazed. How is the truth awkward and unmentionable? Except clearly, it is?

I’m going to talk to my GP about it and hopefully get to see someone qualified in head injury and personality change.

And no, this isn’t a joke post. 🤷

If I’ve ever offended you, ‘flippantly’ then it’s not been my aim.

I think it does make my company ‘ funny ‘ but only if you are relatively insensitive to stuff that I could say. Otherwise it seems you might find me ‘ uncomfortable company ‘ !

My interview with the police took about 2 hours.

The ‘ compulsory questions’ that were not related to the actual crime .. included

My sexual orientation
The gender I identify as
My ethnicity
Whether or not I considered myself disabled ( and then in what way )
Whether I thought the crime was racially motivated
Whether it can have caused community tensions ( and if so, how? And if not, why?)
How did the crime make me feel.
How has it affected me emotionally
Whether or not I have a support group
If so, who are they
What nature of things am I comfortable sharing with them
Have I had counselling since the incident
Would I like victim counselling
Could the assailant have been part of a terrorist organisation
Could he have planned to targeted me

And perhaps another Yes/ No questions.

My answers will be sent for analysis…

That’s good.

I went through the account of the incident probably 4 times.
The officer was clearly following the procedure he is obliged to.

The ‘ essential information’ could have been gathered in 10 minutes or so.

🤷