B is for Batmobile

No, not that Batmobile!

This Batmobile!

When this three-wheeled rollator entered my life I thought it looked as though there was a bat hanging from the frame so, inevitably, the contraption became Mary's Batmobile.

So much language surrounding disability is boring and/or condescending.  "Mobility scooter" sounds very dull, even though many children would love to whizz around on one.  There was once a rumour that the late Professor Stephen Hawking would deliberately run over people’s toes, including the pedal extremities of the (then) Prince of Wales. When asked about it he said it was a "malicious rumour" and he'd "run over anyone who repeats it".  I don’t toe squash deliberately, but I call my scooter my trundle truck which seems to suit it. TT's can be fun!

My Batmobile is purely for indoor use when I am feeling more than usually decrepit, so few people have ever seen me use it.  The black thing is a bag which usually contains my flask.  Which contains coffee.  Honest!

 

Rascal!

 No, I'm not talking about Jack today but rather about the new Rascal in my life.  I hope Jack doesn't get jealous!

For the last twelve years I have used a Trundle Truck or, if you use official terminology, Mobility Scooter.  My TT means freedom to me so when mine became very unreliable, I had to have a new one.    

So, forward The Rascal Vista.  Like all scooters, it is quite an expensive bit of kit, so I am deeply grateful to the many people who, over several centuries, have given money for grants to help elderly clergy in the Diocese of Lincoln.  Many of them would never have seen a trundle truck ever but I hope they would be glad to know that they have given freedom back to me.  I've never applied for charitable funding before (I've always seen myself as a giver rather than a taker) but a scooter which suits my needs is around £2000 and I need a new one every 5-6 years so I decided to go for it.  

And it is wonderful!  I've been shopping this morning without any fear that I would be stranded if the trundle truck broke down.  And I am able once again to plan days out this summer.  Fantastic!

It's good to talk

 I went to Brigg today.  It was such a cold day but so bright.  I took the trundle truck (mobility scooter), of course and meandered along the riverbank.  And I found a new notice, pinned to a bench.  My trundle truck has a warmer seat than that looked but I hope it gets well used, even if not by me!

I went a little further along the river bank and saw an angler and remarked that he obviously took his fishing pleasures very seriously.  He was baiting his hook and he told me that this stretch of river has lots of pike and perch. 

Then I met a friendly dog which fancied a ride on the trundle truck so its owner and I had a chat.

Then a schoolgirl gave me a shy smile and wished me "Good morning!" on her way to school.

I hope lots of people use the chatty bench but to be honest, people talk in Brigg without any encouragement whatsoever.  Has anyone seen this initiative anywhere else?

A Privilege

Privileges come in all shapes and sizes.  I've just had one.

This young man lives in Romania.  He was dependent on a wheelchair which meant that he relied on others to push him to wherever he wanted to be.

I was able to send him my spare trundle truck.  Where he goes now is his choice.  

Is there any greater privilege than to be able to give another human being a taste of freedom?

Three wheels on my wagon

Well, life is never dull.

Our local vicar is on his hols at the moment so yours truly volunteered to take the midweek communion last night.  I decided to go really early to give myself time to admire various gardens on the way.  It was a lovely warm evening and I was really enjoying the ride.

Until there was a thump.  And a grating noise.  And one of the front wheels of my trundle truck went off down the hill leaving me and the rest of the truck to watch it.

Don't worry, I was more surprised than hurt.  Someone was walking by and she helped me to get it out of everyone's way.  Someone else went to a nearby house and asked the very kind gentleman to help.  He took me home and I fetched my car which has a ramp so I could get the TT in without too much difficulty.

And I still got to church on time!

P S New scooter arriving Tuesday.  

Enhanced trundling

For the last eight years I've used a walking stick and for the last six I've used a mobility scooter usually known as my trundle truck.  Over the last six years I've made five applications for a Blue Badge and have always been refused.  Which is a pain.

I'm not sure whether the Blue Badge scheme is international so I'd better say that it's a scheme to allow parking concessions when a disabled person is using a car either as a driver or passenger.  Unfortunately it is often misused and Blue Badges are sometimes resented by able bodied people but when the badge is needed it is invaluable.

But it has now been decided that I qualify and today the longed-for badge arrived.  The trundling will get even better!

A start to Christmas socialising

Sometimes Christmas feels like hard work - and sometimes it is pure joy!  I'm not waiting for 25th December for the joy - today I went to Newark and met up with my old school-friend Alice (Bobo's human, if you remember Bobo).

We've been friends since we were sixteen (which is quite a long time ago), and we can resume our conversation just as we left off.  Today we had decided that we would just meet for a very leisurely lunch at a village pub near Newark.  Three hours non stop chatter - the waitress was VERY patient!

But before I met up with Alice I nipped into Newark market.  It is truly delightful and I bought some lovely fruit and veg. It's almost the sort of market I remember from my childhood but only almost, not quite.  There are still the cheerful stripy awnings, the stall holders still shout their wares, and the stuff still looks scrummy and wonderful.

But there is one very sad difference.  Years ago this market square would have been full of stalls, just as it had been since mediaeval times.  Today, even on the busiest market day of the week, the square was half empty.

Whilst I was in Newark I rode my trundle truck over a rather bumpy pavement and the basket fell off the front, scattering my possessions, including my camera, across the pavement.  A women was sitting on a bench six feet away.  I unfolded my walking stick and got off and started to collect the detritus from the pavement.  A gentleman came dashing from the other side of a very busy road and helped me whilst the woman looked on.  Thank you, Sir.  And as for you, Madame, shame on you.

Thank you

Thank you for all your very kind comments following my fright on Saturday.  I was out and about again today and I retraced my Saturday route.  Everything was fine and just after I had got past the spot where the problem occurred I saw a friend and was able to talk it through a bit with her so I have chased the demon away.

Bless you, Princess

Yesterday I was frightened.  I was out on my trundle truck when three young men began shouting at me.  Actually I think it was an excess of beer which was shouting at me but whatever it was, I was frightened.

The shouting was of the “Give us a lift” variety (with a few personal remarks) which I am quite used to (without the personal remarks) and it is usually friendly but this time it felt threatening.  I had no choice but to go very close to them on the pavement (you can’t just cross the street on a TT!) so I just smiled and went past.

Just over a year ago I was coming back from London on a train and I had treated myself to a seat in the first class quiet coach.    There was a hiatus and a group of about a dozen young men came into the carriage, being ushered through by railway staff.  The lads were all determined to travel first class on standard class tickets and the staff were determined that wasn’t going to happen.  The ringleader was wearing a magnificent jester’s hat and suddenly he saw little old me, wearing my dog collar and sitting very quietly hoping they would just go past.  He went very quiet and the rest of the group realised he had seen something and they too started to stare at me.  Suddenly the leader laid his hand on my shoulder and said, “Aw, bless you Princess!” and off they trotted down the carriage like a flock of well-behaved lambs.  I sat and giggled for the rest of my journey.

Most people treat me with courtesy and consideration and in truth yesterday was the first time in five years of using my TT that I have really felt frightened.  Don’t worry, I’m OK and shall be out and about trundling again very soon.

Nineteenth Century Trundle Truck

My trundle truck is great!  It takes me places I would otherwise miss out on.  Today it took me to Normanby Park.  











While I was at Normanby I saw this wonderful donkey Bath chair which was made some time around 1860.

Bath chairs (named after the City of Bath) were nineteenth century invalid carriages allowing a disabled or sick person to be trundled around either pushed by a servant or, as in this case pulled by an animal.

My trundle truck is much more convenient - but it would be fun to have a donkey to look after me!

An end to seclusion

Few people can have had a quieter Christmas than me.  I came home from church on Christmas Day, shut the door and didn’t open it again until this morning.  I had a few phone calls but Christmas is a time of quiet seclusion for me.  I have plenty of invitations but I prefer solitude for this very special time

I decided that today was the right time to end my seclusion with a trip to Normanby Park.  I made a flask of coffee, wrapped up warm and off I went. 

It was so beautiful there!  There were few people about in the early morning, just a few dog walkers.

The ducks had decided that it was too cold to go swimming.

The trees looked magnificent in their winter nudity.

The walled garden has been largely cleared and the soil left bare to allow the frost to deal with the pests.

I had wondered if these beauties would have been put over the rhubarb to force it.

But no, Victoria is still exposed.

It was a wonderful to ride around on my trundle truck.

And even better to get home to slow cooker chicken casserole

Grumpy Old Man

I woke up this morning full of good intentions about things I would do today.  And I’ve done none of them.  It’s been a glorious warm day here and I decided that the trundle truck and I would go to Normanby Hall.  It’s the first year that I’ve bought a season ticket to go there and it has been so worthwhile.  I was there for a couple of hours today.  

The autumn colours were magnificent.

The walled garden is being readied for winter

And it is half term so the place was teeming with children. Usually I go at times when there won’t be many youngsters (they do unpredictable things when they see my trundle truck) but I had forgotten about half term and watching them was sheer joy.

The land train was running and little ones were enjoying rides.  So were a few grandads and grandmas.  

This grumpy old man didn’t look as though he thought half term was a good idea – but his life will get more exciting on 5^th November!

Trust

I’ve been to Normanby Hall again today and I’m feeling very frustrated because I can’t upload my photographs!

However, while I was there I had one of those incidents which make me think.  I wanted to get a photograph which involved leaving the metalled path.  Like a lazy idiot instead of getting out my walking stick I rode my trundle truck (mobility scooter) under the trees.  The leaves and a few twigs have started falling and soon my TT was stuck.  The back wheels had become jammed with damp leaves and I wasn’t going anywhere.  I got off, sorted out my stick and started to poke the leaves out.  It wasn’t easy.

Two ladies saw me struggling and came over to see if they could help and with their aid I tilted the TT,  the wheels were soon freed and I was free to trundle off.  And I was VERY grateful!

I’m very lucky.  People are usually willing to help me.  But sometimes I really don’t want help.  I know that if other people do too much for me I will lose some of the abilities I have.  I have thought long and hard about this and I have come to this conclusion – disability involves me trusting that people want to help when I need help but it involves my friends trusting that when I need help I will ask.  I hope I don’t sound ungracious. 

Am I caring or am I just lazy?

It’s been a curious sort of day.  This morning was just housework type things but this afternoon I decided that I had to get this Smartphone sorted so off I went to Tesco Extra in Lincoln where I acquired The Thing about a month ago.

 

I decided to go to the cafe where customers wait to be seated.  Eventually the waitress came and took me to a table in a dark corner.  I declined and said I would rather be seated where I could look over the balcony and watch people in the store.  She said that my mobility scooter and I would be in the way (as presumably shopping trolleys and prams were not).     However I got my own way and I decided that I would write to the manager suggesting that a little disability awareness training wouldn’t come amiss. 

I then went down to the mobile phone department.  The contrast couldn’t have been greater.  The man who served me was courtesy itself.  He sorted out the problems, showed me a few things about my phone and suggested that I make a list and come in again if I needed to.   He was polite and friendly, at no time did I feel stupid or patronised and he was a credit to the firm he works for. 

When I got home I wrote to the store manager to compliment him on the salesman, asking that my thanks be passed on.  After I had written the letter I sat back and reflected.

When I was younger it would have been much more important to me to complain about the waitress but the older me felt it to be more important to praise the young salesman and I certainly didn’t want to do both in one letter because I hope that the manager will show him what I wrote.  Am I becoming pleasanter and more caring as I get older or am I just becoming lazy and unwilling to stand up for myself? I'm not sure.

The Power of Thank You

I went to Lakeland today – no, not the Lake District but Lakeland Ltd, “the home of creative kitchenware.”  Kitchen porn is more like it.  The stuff in there ranges from the incredibly useful and difficult-to-find to the incredibly useless and why would you want to find it.   

I went to Lakeland and had a good ferret around but I made sure I was there early because last time I went I managed to smash a couple of sundae glasses when I knocked into a display whilst riding my mobility scooter. The staff were really good, “Please don’t worry, no need to pay” and I have to say if you’re going to break something, Lakeland is the place to do it as they have the best kit for clearing it up.

They were so good that I e mailed their head office and I sent the staff a thank you card.  I was trundling around (very carefully) today and an assistant said, “Excuse me, are you the lady who sent the lovely card?”

And once again the service was superb.  Several staff members greeted me and I was beautifully looked after. 

It’s the power of thank you.  One assistant told me that my card has pride of place on the staff notice board and thanked me for it.

So my thank you came back to me.  And I came home with a smile on my face.