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Inspired by fellow blogger Tim's post about the wonderful Matt Harding's dance videos that make me smile and feel warm inside, I add my own: the Free Hugs Campaign. And since we're on the subject of upliftment (?), let me just include a couple of book titles from the Diagram Prize that I've just read about:
Our lovely neighbour Ralph died today. He was 84 and had been in amazing health. Seems he had a heart attack. As his daughter said, he was at home (where he's lived for 34 years). He was an extraordinary, gentle man, kind, humble, interesting, generous. After my accident, he came round and offered Annika money. He refused to do nothing, so Annika asked him to mow the lawn, which he did dutifully, as well as chopping up our logs. Since I've been home, I pop round every week for a cup of tea and chat, take Ralph shopping, down to the doctor. It's a lovely mutual relationship though: he'd come out and put my wheelchair inside the house if I didn't need it when driving, check to see I was OK when I arrived back in the car. On VE day a few years ago, I asked him what he'd done in the war. "Oh nothing special". I later discover that he was a navigator in a Lancaster bomber and had completed over 30 raids... He still has all his log books. Annika got him to come down to the kids' school to talk about his experiences. They were fascinated, especially when he started talking about the bombs. I'm really going to miss him. Each time I go outside I check his window to see if he's OK and now I'll never see him again.
Yesterday we went to see West Side Story at Sadler's Wells. Incredible show, bargain price tickets and hilarious to see how women queuing for the loos would guiltily move away from the accessible toilets when I arrived. But a sour experience getting there. Kids and Annika had stayed with friends (one of the most irritating things about being in a wheelchair is how none of our London friends have accessible houses). So I came a different route, via taxi. Well, that was the intention. I've been taken home in taxis completely drunk, despatched by kind friends. I've got in with flat-tyred bicycles. With two children and a buggy. But will they stop for me now I'm in a wheelchair? Will they hell. Five go by with their lights on. It's not like I'm invisible in a lime green jacket and pink top (don't ask. It looks better than it sounds). Do they all have bad backs? Do none of them have ramps? Are they all seeking rich fares? I've never felt so discriminated against before. I'll be complaining to the Public Carriage Office, but honestly, what can they do?
27 August update: Well, they responded. A classic answer, worth quoting in full:
"Dear Mr Farrow,
Thank you for your e-mail regarding the behaviour of five taxi drivers.
To clarify the Hackney Carriage Acts, which govern the behaviour of licensed cab drivers, I must explain that the driver of an unhired cab passing along a street is not legally bound to stop when hailed, as he is not deemed to be plying for hire whilst he is in motion. A cab compulsorily stopped by traffic, by traffic signals or prevailing traffic conditions is, for this purpose, regarded in the same way as if it were in motion. The "For Hire" sign has no legal significance until the cab is plying for hire on a rank during the hours of darkness.
In answer to your question, all taxi drivers are fully trained on using wheelchair ramps and making all passengers feel comfortable and safe whilst travelling in their taxi.
In the circumstances you describe it appears no offence was committed, and consequently no action is open to this Office in this matter.
Kind regards
Miss S
Complaints Support"
Fabulous! Offences? Legal significance? And I had no idea that a taxi is never obliged to stop unless in a rank at night. The things you learn...
Back from London where I've indulged in a mad movie fest triple bill, finishing with what might possibly be my new favourite film, Man on Wire. It's a documentary about Phillipe Petit's journey in 1974 to walk a tightrope between the Twin Towers. It had me laughing hysterically, crying, awestruck, inspired. It's made by the BBC's Storyville (and part funded by the National Lottery, I'm glad to see) so will doubtless come to BBC4, but you have to see it on a big screen. Watch the trailer here and then go and see the film. I'm planning to go back with the kids on Friday. If you don't trust my judgement, listen to the former 007: apparently Sir Sean Connery called Man on Wire “one of the best three films I have ever seen.”
The festival started with the Brazilian Elite Squad, about the BOPE, an elite squad (obviously) within the police force. Replays the old cliches about Brazil (drugs and corrupt police), but it's gripping. Far more so than the next offering, El Baño de Papa: a Uruguayan film about the (true) visit of the Pope to the country and the (fictional) story of someone building a "hygenic toilet" for the thousands of anticipated visitors. Beautiful but slow and not enough to keep me awake.
I saw these in what used to be my favourite cinema in London, the Curzon Soho. After my last experience in London when I couldn't get into the film I had hope to watch, I was not sure I'd be able to get to all the movies. So I was thrilled to discover that the Curzon is completely accessible, the food and beer is as good as ever (it's the only cinema I know where you can spend the whole day without needing to leave) and, best of all, the staff were willing to help me transfer on to the seats. Oh bliss! So the Curzon Soho remains my favourite and I think I'll send the staff a box of chocolates.
Spent last night at the Hilton Tower Bridge in London. A lastminute.com bargain at £69 and by far the best hotel I've stayed in terms of access, let alone food and service. So often, accessible hotels are uninspiring or shout out their worthiness. The Hilton is subtle, unpatronising and sets a standard that I wish other hotels would follow. The reception desk has a lower counter, which is marked as Express Checkout, not "disabled only". The ramp to the lift is the main thoroughfare. The bathroom has a fold down shower seat with fold down rails, a basin at the right level and excellent lighting. It's perfect. There aren't panic buttons everywhere or long dangling alarm cords or oversized rails and handles. I know where I'll be staying next time I come up to the Big Smoke.
No, it's not a rhetorical question. I walked today. For the first time in over two years. Admittedly backwards and incredibly slowly but I walked. I had my first session at Physability, "specialists in exercise therapy for individuals affected by paralysis" and I used a parapodium (see the picture). It's a strange thing, a sort of lower body exoskeleton. Snowshoes for feet to rest on, metal frame to support, levers for arms. You have to sway to lift your feet off the ground (and no, you can't fall over, but I didn't feel too confident on my first attempt), then lift your arms to raise your feet. It's really hard work and given I don't stand that often - maybe twice a day on my trusty Oswestry but can't manage very long - blacking out seemed a real possibility. But I loved the thing. You can wander about in the garden and if you have three hours and seven minutes to spare, you can walk a mile. I want one! More fundraising required, I believe...
That was the highlight of my two hour visit to Physability though there were many moments to choose from. Sitting on an exercise ball and bouncing? Using a home-made cross trainer? Standing on a vibrating plate? Actually moving my legs as they hung in a pulley? This last one I'd have thought impossible: I supposedly have a complete injury, with no movement below my armpits, and my legs moved from side to side. Yes, only inches and yet amazing. Never was £70 better spent. And how did it feel to walk again? Well, to be honest, I didn't really notice. I was too busy trying to co-ordinate hands, feet, swaying and lifting without falling over...
