September 2008 Archives

Saturday saw a family outing to the Royal Festival Hall for G and S's wedding. It was a fantastic day, immersed in the newly refurbished building that celebrates the original design, right down to the carpets...

It was a great event, with a touching attention to detail. All the kids were given their own copy of
This is London...

Last weekend I had a bit on an adventure. In Barcelona, of all places. A close friend (G for anyone who has read my book) is getting married soon, and I joined a crowd of twelve others for a 'Stag' weekend of food and beverage in the Catalan capital.

Easyjet from Gatwick was, well, Easy. I was allowed to sit in the first row, and therefore I could get onto the plane in my own chair and transfer myself into the seat, thus saving on the wait for baggage handlers and 'aisle chairs'. I'm sure the airline has worked out that this means they can turn the flight around quicker, but it certainly works for me.

Barcelona is a magnificent city. It has beautiful architecture, labarynthine side streets and alleyways, bustling markets, Gaudi(obviously), a beach and marina, and all of it is wheelchair accessible. Except the beach. Obviously.

The taxi drivers were unphased by my chair, and happy to stash it in the boot or on the back seat.  Most shops and bars were accessible, and the paving and streets, while a bit on the 'cobbly' side, had slopes and ramps subtly incorporated.

We were well received, considering our visit coincided with England playing Andorra in Barcelona on the same weekend, and confused groups of men in England shirts stopping and asking "Where are all the pubs?" No, really.
 I felt like saying, "You're in a different country. They have bars. Basically the same thing. I'm sure you'll work it out." I didn't.

I spoke to a taxi driver about the Olympics, and he said that it was one of the best things that had ever happened to Barcelona, and it was certainly obvious that the 'legacy' (that word so often bandied about with regard to the London games) has been successful. The public spaces are generously proportioned, contemporary in style, and well used. One can sense that the people of Barcelona are proud of them.

The other legacy is from the Paralympics, and is in evidence in the many and subtle small scale efforts that have gone into making the city fully accessible. But it is also in evidence in the attitude of the Barcelona taxi drivers. No driving past and refusing to stop if the punter is a wheelchair user, as is the wont of many a London cabbie, sadly. Maybe there's a few more bits of knowledge they should brush up on...

An interesting and well made point by fellow blogger Andrew in his recent entry.
To be described as inspiring just for getting on with the everyday stuff can make me feel uncomfortable. The first question it begs is,
"What does it inspire you to do, exactly? Cook while sitting down? Or drive the car without using your feet, perhaps?"
I'm sure some people will feel rebuffed by this, but my everyday is dominated by just trying to feel normal. Anything that emphasizes my changed circumstance is jarring and emotionally difficult. Still. Even after three years.

On a more positive note, Andrew does also mention a sport that he has tried and that I would love to try, if only we had a few miles of empty sand nearby...

It's now up on Ouch, the BBC disability website. It still feels strange for me to be writing for a disability website, because I still find it strange to call myself disabled. As if I'm some kind of outsider, the new kid in school.

I know, silly really. I mean, surely the wheelchair stands as pretty incontrovertible evidence. But here's the thing: I am a complete novice at interacting with the world in such a different way. I still look at shelves and light switches, stairs and ladders, and I instinctively reach for, climb up, generally react in the way I used to before my accident.

That's not to say that I spend my time flopping hopelessly on the floor as I try to put one foot in front of the other, but more that I do these things in my head. I see things as easy to get to when they are nigh on impossible without assistance. And that's just in our home. It's even worse in the big bad world.

But on some level, I like it that way. My miscalculations and misguided optimism at overcoming obstacles links me to my old life, the way I was. The way I still am in my head.  Denial? Perhaps... but I'd never admit it. (Geddit?)

That's why I like pictures like the one below. Sure, there's a wheelchair in it, but me? I'm just sitting on the grass...