On the mend

Well, either I'm getting better, or I'm pregnant. I have just spent the entire afternoon in some kind of frenzy, hurtling around the flat sorting and scrubbing, tidying anything not nailed down. All of this punctuated with almost obsessive handwashing.

One of the biggest challenges came when I tackled the sofa bed...

While I was doing my rehabilitation in Stoke Mandeville I had an infection which caused me to have a high fever. The reaction of the staff was to give me paracetamol, and then to throw all the bedclothes off, the windows open and then install a fan in the room.

The explanation I was given had a lasting effect on my approach to having a fever.

Our first priority is always to get the patient's temperature under control because until this is done, the body can't begin to tackle the infection. If your temperature gets above forty degrees, then you will suffer serious tissue damage.'

As a result of three days and nights of covers on, covers off mangling, the sofabed resembled a collapsed circus tent. When I began to strip the blankets off, I half expected stunned clowns to crawl out of the corners. I must confess a little disappointment to find the bed free of sawdust and candy-floss.

Making a bed as a paraplegic is no mean feat. There is planning involved, and even a little luck.

First a landing zone has to be established, then I launch myself from the wheelchair and eagerly into the fray. Once on the bed, I try and untangle the multiple layers and then make half the bed. Then I leave the bed, and repeat the process with the other half. The idea is that the two halves then blend together and you are left with a zen garden of smooth linen-ed loveliness.

This rarely happens. What then follows is fifteen minutes of pulling and smoothing until I get to something reasonably tidy. It is at this point that the edge of the cover gets caught in my wheels and the whole thing gets dragged sideways, revealing an oversized red shoe full of confettti. And I'm sure I heard a faint honking sound...