So... it's been a while!

Hey there little blog, this Widdlin' Diddler is brought to you by an inability to sleep and powered by quite a lot of tramadol.

Somewhat off topic (my gallbladder and its potential collection of gallstones is trying to kill me) but I thought I ought explain why this might be even more rambling than usual... its because tramadol blows up me noodle, its fucking cosmic man (or it would be if it didn't make me want to throw up quite a lot)... but it does make me waffle on a bit!

So it's been a while, I've been in possession of Bernard the Amazing Wheelchair for quite some time now - thanks to the Bank of Dad and the lovely chaps and chapesses at RGK wheelchairs,  and I have really got my head round using her (yes, Bernard is a girl. Watch Blackadder.)


We've done some dog training/behaviour seminars (I got to meet Patricia McConnell! Awesomeness, shes SO lovely and SO interesting, and if anyone ever actually reads this, unless you are a dog geek you have no idea who she is!), but mainly, we shop.


OMG I LOVE SHOPPING... I actually freaking LOVE shopping, clothes shopping, even for other people.

I've spent the better part of the last 30 years HATING shopping, because I have to stand too long, walk too far, the only shops I liked were shoe shops as you can sit down in them!

Now, I can shop for DAYS at a time, I really could.

Plus, something you don't realise til you use a manual wheelchair - floors in most of the big stores are fucking smoooooooooooooooooth as a smooth thing on a really smooth day, after its had a shave and some lotion!

What this means is - speed! Yes, I'm the one hurtling down the aisle shouting WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE and POWERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR... I get funny looks but I couldn't give a single fuck. For 30 odd years I have moved at a pace marginally faster than an asthmatic snail.

Now for the first time in my life, I can move faster than most peoples brisk walking pace, I can actually move so quickly that people need to JOG to keep up and fuck me, I like it!

I do get out of breath (having a fucked up heart will do that to you) but you know what, when you are sat down its pretty hard to fall over. I can coast, I can stop and rest if necessary and then carry on!

So here comes my second revelation that the delightful Bernard has brought to me...

Once I am pain free (and using the wheelchair generally takes my pain levels down to what I assume is normal for a 33 year old) and I am confident I can stop when necessary... I ACTUALLY LIKE EXERCISE...

*thud*... Yeah, I do. Im a 23 stone cake loving fat-ass and I LIKE exercise - turns out, what I never LIKED was pain, lack of oxygen and the impending doom of a heart attack - exercise it turns out, is quite nice!

So now I find I'm actually getting out there even if I don't need to, just to stretch my arms and go for a push.. you know, like AB's go for a walk even if they don't have a dog, and like some of them go JOGGING... like that!

In fact the other day, I over did things somewhat round Sainsbury's, which was foolish - I had to send the Boy home to get something (ha, the debit card!) and I continued to try to shove a full trolley round the store using my legs held out rigid in front of me whilst I used my arms to push the wheelchair......

It was quite successful (and before you ask,  yes they do have the trolleys that clip to the chair, if you have a standard width chair which I don't, and if you don't mind it shredding off your gorgeous paintwork, which I do!), as long as I mainly stuck to straight lines and took the corners slowly and very wide...

It also resulted in some not unpleasant after effects in my back and shoulder muscles the following day - I was stiff as a bloody corpse...

So what did I do? Lie around moaning that it hurt?

No! I volunteered to go shopping with my Dad, just so I could get out for a push round Morrisons (lovely wide aisles!), and I did, whizzed round Morrisons covering about three times the ground he was covering, dashing off to fetch things (which I have to do by holding things in my teeth cos I'm shit at gripping things with my knees and being a fatty with short legs I have no useful lap to put things on)....

It felt GOOOOOOOOOD!  I am actually seriously wondering if there is a local athletics track I'd be able to zoom round once a week or so... mm!

Or maybe thats the tramadol talking!


Being serious (though im actually seriously thinking about that now) I seem to have found quite a lot of confidence when out and about using Bernard - I've never been the sort of person who is worried about talking to strangers, I'll strike up a conversation with absolutely anyone... but NOW I have the confidence to haggle over prices in certain stores (poundstretcher, i have no shame at all)... or actually make a complaint, or ask for something, which I would  NEVER do before...


So I think what I am trying to say, is that for years I was dreading the thought of a wheelchair, thinking it would be in some way a failure or allowing myself to 'give up' when the reality is, its fucking brilliant, I love it, I am doing more and I am infinitely happier!

If you are someone like me, who needs a chair, or you even  THINK you'd benefit from a chair - don't piss about, speak to your GP, borrow a chair and try it, get to the OT and feckign MAKE  them give you one. Don't waste time getting caught up worrying about what people think or feeling like its an admission of defeat like I did - I could have, and should have, done this years ago!

Disabled Frigging Parking...

Or 'Dear Mr Tesco, your Night Manager Really Put His Foot In It....



Went on a trip to a local 24 hour Tesco with my sister, She Who Likes To Make A Scene (actually fair play to her, shes good at it, polite but to the point and takes no shit whatsoever!)...

It is of course the festive season and this means we must visit damn near every supermarket in the region for a variety of ridiculous things... I digress though.

We arrived at the large Tesco store at 10pm. We mooched around the carpark looking for the cripple spots, thinking they would probably be in a row near the front door...

Uh, not this store, only two of their disabled spaces are remotely near the front door, the two at the top of the row. The rest extend back down the sloping carpark and apart from the slightly wider space, present little to no advantage whatsoever.

I know this, because the first twenty spaces were full - leaving us to park about as far from the store as was humanly possible without being out on the bloody motorway!

It was of course, pissing down - the joy of pushing, without gloves (the puppy ate them) through a wet carpark, up hill, in the rain and the dark... mm.

So I was quite pissed off before I even got to the pedestrian strip up the middle of the double row of crip spaces... and then I realised that our car was the ONLY car there that had a badge. Not one single other car did.

What is this? Do people assume us cripples don't venture out after dark, are we under some sort of curfew, do we not have irrational middle of the night shopping needs like anyone else?

SWLTMAS did so with the first employee we met through the door. He said he would send a boy out to find out more... we heard nothing.

We shopped.

We finished shopping.

We paid and then SWLTMAS asked to see someone about the parking issue. Ah, they said, we will send out our Night Manager...

Out he trotted... oh hum yes, very bad, dreadful in fact..... and then, then he said this...

" I hope it isn't members of staff....'

And thinking about it, it was nearly 11pm, two days before Christmas. There were only about five people shopping in the store vs about 50 members of staff (and we managed to bump into two more people we knew!)... it hadn't actually crossed my mind before, but you know what... I'll bet most of those people parked in the disabled spaces were fucking tesco employees!

I have never managed a large supermarket, I will admit this right now - but even I know its a bit fucking foolish to even concede the SLIGHTEST possibility that ones staff members might actually be in the habit of parking in the disabled spots on night shifts... just a little fucking bit?

Irate letter is on its way to Mr Tesco, and a visit to their facebook page is in the offing!

Some people think they know better...

Why is it so very often close friends or family who do this?

I will apologise, this is an unreserved rant. If you wanted to read something positive, inspirational, up-beat or happy, this is not it, move along please!

For the last week or so, my sister has been raving on about some place she took her foster kids for a swim, a man-made lake in the Forest of Dean, Mallards Pike. Very nice, easy access, not a long walk from the car-park, quiet, yadda yadda..

Now, the Forest is a good 40 minutes drive from here, and I find being passenger in a car quite stressful, makes me really tense and this affects my muscle pain not to mention tests the efficacy of my beta-blockers no end!  No avoiding it really so if the trip is worth it, I go!

I have to point out, for the last couple of weeks during this heatwave, I have been swimming pretty much every other day, in the Severn or more frequently in the Avon - I don't really like indoor pools (plus the flooring in them is so damn slippery!).

I have found a nice spot to get into the Avon that is really easy access - concrete slipway - theres a couple of concrete blocks in the water too that provide firm footing and I don't have to step down very far. It is also a very short hobble from the car, so its perfect.

But Sister swears blind, oh this place in the Forest is perfect its soooooo nice... so I give in and we go off for a day out with her, her foster kids (16 and 18 years old, not kiddy kids!) and my Dad.

We arrive and the first thing that is obvious, is that this 'short walk' is not a bloody short walk at all - bearing in mind I can't walk more than 20 yards without serious pain/more than 2 minutes without serious pain, this bloody walk is a good 10 minutes painful struggle... which she leaves me to do on my own, because shes sidetracked by the bloody burger bar!

Now I could have stood and waited with her at the burger bar, but they were queuing for ten minutes and I'd still have the ten minute walk on top of that.. no way, just not do-able.

So I finally make it round the lake - my Dad has zoomed off in front, thinking I wouldn't attempt it (I wouldn't have had I know just HOW far).. this gives you an idea of how slowly and how hard I find walking - Dad is 72 and slowly falling to bits and he hadn't just arrived at the chosen spot, but found a tree to change behind and was down to his Budgie Smugglers (ugh!) by the time I arrived.

This beautiful, peaceful lake by the way.... is CRAMMED full of tourists, the lake is packed with kids shrieking 'HAHAHAH I DID A WEE IN THE LAKE HAHAHA I WEED' etc, canoes, raft building.. you name it, its going on in there. Nice.

Eventually my sister saunters up and says we are in the wrong place (we'd found a smaller linked lake that was clear and had no people in it) and insists we move to her chosen spot, so I struggle further on round the other side of the lake to the place she claims has lovely easy access into the water...

  Only it turns out, her idea of easy access and mine are somewhat different!

Her idea of easy access is a steep slope, onto a sharply undercut overhang of pine needles and tree roots (nice and slippery) and then a good 18 inch drop to the bottom of the lake, with absolutely nothing to hold onto either.

She rants on that I can sit on the edge to get in - well, I can - but getting into a sitting position on a steep, slippery slope, made of tree roots, on ground that very much might object to holding up 20+ stone of wobbly cripple, thats not that easy!

The point she is ENTIRELY missing of course, is that there is no way in hell, with ropes and tackle, am I getting OUT at that point. I cannot step up 18 inches onto wobbly insecure steep slope, I couldn't fecking do that if I belly flopped onto it and crawled up it, and IF I could do that, I would end up covered in mud and dog piss - nice!

I did get in, mainly because I was hot and pissed off and thought a nice float about might help my joints settle enough to manage the walk BACK to the chuffing car (which it did) - of course at this point sister and kids all declare that they are Not Swimming At All which leaves me and Dad feeling like we are just holding them up and why have we even bothered coming!

My swim was cut fairly short by the need to swim to the slipway and get out before the next lot of raft building canoe scuppering kids got in, and of course then I had to walk all around the end of the lake to get back to my clothes - which I had to get dried and dressed into with an audience of kids and dog walkers because of course, this location offers NO privacy at all!

I had thought my sister realised the physical limitations I have - I really did. I am disappointed to realise she doesn't and just thinks its all a big laugh and perhaps I am just not trying hard enough or something.

What she hasn't seen of course, is that following this 'lovely day out' I have got even worse joint pain, muscle cramps and its taken me the better part of three days to recover - three days when I actually had other things that needed doing of course!

I think the moral of the story is, do not trust other people to know what you need, what you can do, and what you can't. And be absolutely fucking explicit with people if you do need to trust them - but I shan't be trusting HER any time soon!

Getting your head round it...

This has taken me a long time, and I still don't think I am fully there!

Some folk are born disabled, some folk become disabled very suddenly in an accident - these are probably the two most recognised routes or paths or er, reasons, for disability.

Some of us got here a third way though, gradually conditions we have, that we may not have even realised we had, creep up on us.

Slowly over a number of years, it sneaks up, stealing away the things we can do, and messing with our heads.

This is basically what happened to me. As a child, I was, not actually fat, but fatter than my younger sister, solidly built shall we say.

I was slow at physical exercise, and generally the one at the back squawking 'wait for meeeee' pathetically. I was also the one guaranteed to turn an ankle or fall over.

Fast forward through a childhood of being called 'chunky' and believing I was an idle lard-arse, but also a childhood FILLED with active outdoor pursuits - caving, rock climbing, canoeing, swimming, horse riding, archery, hill walking, mountain hiking, skiing...

I end up a teenager, struggling with physical stuff but still firmly of the belief that it was due to being a greedy fat idle pig.

By the time I hit 19, I was really, a greedy fat idle pig - I did eat crap, I was very fat, I had basically accepted that thats what I was and it was all my own fault and it was past the point of doing anything about it.

Though when I joined the gym one year, I went daily, for 3 hours a day, doing 100's of crunches, all the weights machines - found aerobic exercise very hard though (running, cycling, rowing).

Didn't get appreciably thinner, despite nearly a year of the above. Must just still be a fat idle pig then.

My mobility reduced, my ability to stand for long periods reduced. My ability to walk and stand for short periods reduced, but this all crept up on me slowly. So slowly, I didn't realise it wasn't actually my choice.

I stopped going shopping in town with friends, 'because the inside of shops makes me want to kill people'... I stopped walking my dogs very far because it hurt, instead I took them to a local park we could drive to, and I could sit on a bench.

One time I took a train to London - I nearly passed out in the carpark of Piccadilly Train station in Manchester, trying to drag my luggage up the hill, rushing so as not to miss my train. I actually thought I might die.

The many many long staircases at various Underground stations once I got there were hell, again, black spots danced before my eyes and I thought there was a damn real chance I'd pass out and fall on the folks behind me, squashing them to death.

Finally, aged 28, I found it so difficult to get up my own stairs I needed a rest half way up...

"Thats it", I thought... " I have finally gotten so fat I am going to die".

A good friend dragged me to a GP. I staggered in wheezing, my back killing me, gasping for air that seemed to do no good once I dragged it into my lungs.

By this point, I couldn't stay awake more than 8 hours a day, I was falling asleep the moment I sat down on the sofa. I felt so heavy inside, and lying down to sleep resulted in endless coughing and choking.

I had palpitations and periods of tachycardia, but the GP told me to go for a walk and gave me some sleeping pills, claiming I was just having panic attacks.

One night my boyfriend had to seriously shake me awake, I had stopped breathing in my sleep due to the sleeping pills.

My friend dragged me back to the GP who was not interested in the slightest - 'go on a diet' she said, without even looking up from her desk.

That friend saved my life, I firmly believe that - she took me out of there and straight into the next GP's in town, registered me and wheeled me in as an emergency to see my new Doc.

He spotted the water retention immediately - and the diuretics took the pressure off my lungs and heart, allowing me to breath.

Unfortunately, it took him a further three years to spot that I had heart failure (even laughing it off when I suggested it), and another year after that to agree that I did indeed have hypothyroid.

It would appear, though I am currently battling a Rheumatologist, that I have a connective tissue disorder - most probably Ehlers Danlos type 3, which means some joints are hypermobile, my heart has 'stretched' effectively, meaning that my mitral valve leaks, sending blood back where it came from.

I have a huge collection of symptoms, some of them historical - I was actually born this way, and all my struggles as a child to keep up with my family and peer group relate to this condition.

I'm now 33 - I still don't have a proper diagnosis for the connective tissue disorder, because the NHS doesn't really see the need to give me a label for what's wrong. I disagree and that's an ongoing fight!

Over the last five years, I have slowly come to terms with accepting that I am 'a disabled person' - it's been a weird ride if I am honest!

On the one hand, some aspects are infuriating - discovering just how much of the world actually makes me MORE disabled, just because no one 'thought' to do things or build things in a way that would make somewhere accessible.

For instance, public footpaths - so many have pedestrian kissing gates - for the want of a RADAR lock and the ability to open the gate the 'wrong' way - I am denied access to many miles of paths. The sight of a stile where there is no need for one sends me practically demented!

There's other examples of thoughtlessness. Every NHS leaflet about living with heartfailure, is designed with the over 70s in mind. Pictures of cheery faced white haired grannies, advice to 'potter' in the garden or take up knitting.... I appreciate that not many people in their early 30s have heart failure, but actually there's a LOT of young people with heart problems, why not make all the leaflets feature people less obviously ancient! Or feature a range of ages?

The next huge mental obstacle in my life is using a wheelchair.

Thus far I have refused, point blank, except when I have to trek long distances across hospitals - then I will use a patient transport wheelchair (which are designed so that anyone pushing crashes you knees first into walls and doors!).

A short walk (using my stick) in Worcester the other day though demonstrated to me I really do need my own chair. I managed about 20 yards, in pain and using the stick, but when I turned to come back again, the length of time it took the pedestrian crossing lights to change, was just too much.

I ended up hugging the pavement, having slithered down the traffic light pole, in absolute agony.  Car drivers peered at me, people pointed and stared - the only person who asked if I was ok was a lady probably in her early 100s, who walked worse than I did! Obviously I couldn't ask her for help so I said I just needed to sit for a minute then I'd be fine - and eventually I did scramble off the floor and get over the road.

So - wheelchair is ordered, and next I'll need to get my head around actually using it.


One of the biggest headfucks for me, is that when I DON'T attempt to actually DO anything, like now, sat here writing this - I feel pretty much ok. I have some back pain, some joint pain, but otherwise, I feel pretty good really.

If I attempt to go and make a cup of tea in the kitchen though, I'll be in pain, so strong I can't stand before the kettle has boiled.

Going upstairs for a wee (which I do on average 20 times in six hours when I take my diuretics), I have to plan to stop half way up each time, I arrive at the loo out of breath and dizzy, and I can't count the number of times I have peed myself because I was too knackered and weak to move my arms to drop trou and turn around!

The net result of course is that most of the time, I feel like a total fraud. Sat on my mobility scooter and, shortly, sat in my wheelchair, I feel ok. I am capable of getting out of the chair/off the scooter, walking a pace or two, reaching for something off a shelf...... but I am not capable of doing that for more than a minute or so without being out of breath and dizzy and in extreme pain.


I worry what the world thinks about this - they just see a fat girl on a scooter, they will see a fat girl in a wheelchair who... can GET OUT OF IT... omg!

Our world mainly expects that people in wheelchairs stay in them, cannot get out of them, do not suddenly stand up...

I shouldn't really give a flying one what the world thinks, but its pretty hard not to at times!

Zoom-tastic ... mobility scooters?

All I have learned about mobility scooters in the last two years...

That wasn't zippy as a heading goes but this is supposed to be useful rather than just an example of my stunning wit and general comedy nature.

Mobility Scooters...

If you are thinking about one of these, I do have some handy hints for you. Some of them may be rude, but bear with me, most are useful.

•  Consider the terrain you REALLY want to use it on most of the time.
• Consider how far you will go on it.
• Do you want to put it in your car a lot?
• Mainly outdoors use, or mainly indoors (shopping centres, supermarkets etc).

I have a custom offroad mobility scooter, made by Horizon Mobility in Cheltenham  - it is a beast, in more ways than one!

I have the Mayan AC, and I have thrown that scooter around places some of us would fear to walk, let alone ride a scooter.

It does have a couple of drawbacks though - it is wide, and although you will get it through a disabled friendly pedestrian gate, some of the anti-horse/anti-motorbike barriers will prove difficult if not impossible. Some will just lop sticking out parts off your scooter (my ergonomic comfy seat paid the price!)


It is also large and heavy, you will need a trailer, a van or a LARGE people carrier to get it in (plus ramps) - it fits in my Citroen Grand Picasso C4 job JUST (better with the previous seat that would lay back flat, less good with the replacement seat that folds forwards).


There is also basically no scooter out there with much in the way of ground clearance - my Mayan AC has about as much as you can get and even then, I trashed the underside of it in South Wales and caused a braking failure (see pedestrian gate, on a slope, no stopping, whoops there goes the seat adjust lever!) - I would expect (and fervently hope!) that since that incident, Horizon have taken steps to protect the wires and looms and gubbinses on the underneath of their scooters! (Well I DID promise I'd thoroughly road test it!).

If these issues are not going to be issues for you, then I can honestly state that of the available off road scooters in the UK, the Horizon Mayan AC is the best. There is only one other, the Tramper, which is nice... but.. I didn't like it. Narrower, not so stable across a slope, less flexibility on tyres (very thin wheels) and a LOT of plastic faring to bugger in your early days of guesstimating turning circles and gate widths!

Narrow down the scooters you think will do the job you want, and here is the key.. you need to arrange a test ride, and that does involve a salesman. Sorry, but there is no way around that.

I would strongly suggest that you IMMEDIATELY discard any company that will not bring the scooter to the toughest terrain you think you will frequent, and testing it, practically to destruction.

If they won't let you try it anywhere but the pavement or in your own home, then they have something to hide, namely that it won't do the job!

(Note, Tramper and  Horizon were both COMPLETELY happy for me to bazz around a local countryside park, testing their machines on slopes, different surfaces, mud, gravel, grit, puddles, rutted tracks, you name it, I did it!)

Access... or lack of it...

You need to develop a bit of zen here - you are going to discover that the world of footpaths that you COULD access, are actually blighted with stiles, non-accessible kissing gates, single plank footbridges.... and many other crimes against a disabled-friendly countryside!

You CAN raise the issues with the appropriate local footpaths offices/ROW lot - I have done so successfully.

A good rule of thumb when harrassing the ROW officers is to consider whether the path you want to use either, leads somewhere important, or avoids a horrible busy road, or links up to a LOT of path network that is already accessible.

On this latter point, I won - with the changing of just two gates - one to a RADAR key kissing gate (so I can open it the 'wrong' way to allow me through, and lock it behind me to return it to normal kissing gate status) and the other to a normal pedestrian gate rather than a style or kissing gate - I got access to a few miles of paths. It still isn't perfect (one section of path is not useable as it is now so narrow and cut up by the way the land is ploughed, that it forms a miniature cliff edge, single track for walkers, not anywhere near wide enough for the scooter), but its bloody good going!

However, these things take a lot of time, as a clue to this, the 'immediate' change to the gates I wanted changing, took 9 months to actually happen! Don't hold your breath!

Whilst on the whole, the Rights of Way lot ARE trying to get the countryside and public footpaths more accessible, it is going to be a slow process. The current method is to recommend (but not insist!) that stiles are replaced when they need refurbishing, with disabled friendly gates or gaps where practical.  This is going to take some time, as many land owners are not massively keen on repairing stiles in the first place, let alone replacing them with several hundred quids worth of gate, instead of a few quids worth of timber!

Get used to being annoyed at paths you can see, but cannot access. It is a fact of life!

More mundane usage of scooters...

I use mine to whizz to the local supermarket, and thats great - but whizzing BACK with a lot of shopping balanced between my feet is not so great.

Do not underestimate how cold you will get sat on a scooter, even in relatively warm weather. On the other hand, do not mistake that lovely cooling breeze you generate as you hurtle along at 4mph (yes you DO, no faster my friend!) for actual cool temperatures. It's chuffin' easy to get burnt, when you think it isn't that hot!

In winter, particularly if you, like me, own hounds that require the constant and endless walkies, you will FREEZE. Get heated gloves. Do it, do it right now. Get heated socks, do that right now too. These are not mere accessories, they are CRUCIAL or your fingers and toes WILL all drop off. Right off. I am typing this with my nose you know!

On that note... walking the dawg...

Exercising le hounds...

One of the key points for me in picking my scooter, was that I wanted desperately to walk my own dogs again, myself, on my own, and preferable in places other than boring pavements next to horrible stinky roads.

It is generally NOT as easy as hopping on the scooter, grabbing a dog lead and away you go - because unless your hound is a total genius, they won't know HOW to walk beside your scooter, they won't realise that wheels + paws = YELP, they do not know that walking in front of you is dangerous... etc etc.

Get yourself a helper ,and start with one dog at a time (obvious you'd think but apparently it isn't).

Use a HARNESS .. do not use a collar, particularly NEVER use a choke chain (don't use one of those anyway, use it to hold your keys to your pants, not round your dogs neck).

The reason for this is, if you stop suddenly and jerk your dog, a jerk to the neck is at best unpleasant and at worst, dangerous to his health. If you get the lead tangled in the wheels, you could strangle the poor bastard before you know what's going on!

Teach your dog to walk to heel - your dog MAY prefer to keep a light pressure on the leash and I actually don't mind this as long as it is light, it means he and you both know where he is without looking which is a handy thing indeed.

You do NOT want your dog tanking ahead of you, because if you have to turn into him, you are going to run the bloody dog over - he has to walk beside you, ideally in a position where you can look down and see his head, no further back than that.

Training this can be a little awkward - I recommend you  clicker train your dog (you will need a friend to help) to mark and reward walking in the right position. You can use the stop/start method but this can be long winded and confusing for the dog, though combined with clicker training it is pretty good.

I teach my dogs to 'heel' which is walk on a 'soft' lead (not necessarily totally loose) and also to 'hike' which means RUN.

The other key things to teach are left and right (or come by and away, these will make much more sense when you are ON the scooter with the dog on your left. 'Come by' will mean come with me I am turning right, and 'away' means 'move left or I'll run you over I am turning left').

It is important to consider when you first get a scooter that your dog may  not be used to lots of exercise at a fast pace, particularly if you have been bribing/begging/bullying people into walking them.

Take it slowly, particularly pavement work, because lots of pounding the pavements takes it out of a dogs paws. The good thing is that a lot of decent scooters come with a speedometer AND a trip counter so you can see how far you have gone and how fast you are going.

The other nice thing about walking dogs from a scooter is that you can go at a pace that is much more natural for your dog - because dog's do NOT walk at the 2 to 3mph people do - they would prefer to trot at between 4 and 6mph (depending on size of dog!)

You should take care to plan your routes carefully - try to avoid having to use the road (and it is illegal unless you have a scooter equipped to do 8mph) with your dog - if you DO, your dog MUST be on your left hand side, with you between the dog and the traffic.

IT can be very tricky to figure out if you are 'pedestrian' or 'traffic' - If you are a pedestrian then the high way code suggests that you walk FACING the oncoming traffic, but if you ARE traffic then you must go with the flow.

I tend to follow the rule that if I am on the road, because there is no pavement, I am traffic and I move with the traffic, therefore the dog must be on my left hand side between me and the verge.

There are occasional conundrums though - one way streets without pavements - I am a pedestrian therefore I can go the 'wrong' way... but I still need to keep my dog on the verge side rather than in the middle of the road! My best advice here is to avoid like hell one way streets that have no pavement!

One reason to avoid road use with a dog is that you may  need to travel faster, for longer than your dog is capable of. If your dog cannot comfortably trot or canter beside you at 8mph, then do not take your dog on the road at all, it is not fair to road users to hold them up, nor is it fair on your dog to make him run faster than he really can.

Final points - even if you are a disabled scooter user, you STILL have to pick up the shit. Do so or face my wrath.
Dropped kerbs will  NEVER be where you want them to be.
YOu WILL get a flat tyre 5 miles from home across a ploughed field as it is going dark. Oh yes.

All the answers to questions you know you shouldn't ask, but really want to anyway...

This is a bit like the 'is it ok' thing on The Last Leg...

Yeah, it is, only I can say cunt and they can't say that on TV.

So - fire away then, this is your one shot to ask alllll this stuff you want to, because I won't be answering it again!

How come sometimes you are in a wheelchair, and sometimes you use a stick, and sometimes you use a mobility chair and sometimes... you use none of those things! I think maybe you are just weird, or faking!

Not all disabilities are 'static' (in fact, most aren't) - that means lots of us, well, certainly me and people I have spoken to, experience varying levels of disabledness (I made that up. Go me) on a weekly/daily/hourly basis.

Sometimes I can walk a short distance - sometimes I probably shouldn't, but my stick is somewhere else, I can't be bothered to go find it and I think wellllllll I probably wooooon't fall down in the 15 ft from door to car... probably. Sometimes I've been wrong about that.

Sometimes I can barely put one foot in front of the other, carrying my own upper body is hard and I struggle to breathe as well as struggle to stand up and move. Falling is therefore much more likely, so I'd like to avoid that if possible, I'll use my stick, or chair, whichever is most appropriate.

So - whats wrong with you then?

You want the full list? Can I have a full list of what's wrong with YOU? Because hey, no one's perfect!

On the other hand in the spirit of having people understand that disability is NOT just about spinal injuries or missing limbs (sorry guys, you seem to be the poster-folk of disablity, you probably get a prize for that.) I will elaborate.

1/ I have a connective tissue disorder - it is most probably Ehlers Danlos Type 3, but thus far my Rheumatologist doesn't see the point in giving me a 'label'. Gee thanks.

This condition means my joints bend past the point they are supposed to, in my case it means my spine bends more, my hips, knees and ankles all have a far far greater range of movement than they should. My fingers and shoulders do too.
This in turn means that standing and walking and balancing requires a lot more effort to do, which is really tiring.. and now I move you to point 2...

2/ I have left side heart failure. The blood does not all go to my lungs, pick up oxygen and whizz round my body. Some of it goes back into my heart which is inefficient to say the least. My lungs fill with fluid too, which doesn't help.
The overall effects are somewhat like having altitude sickness... permanently.

Now refer back to point one - everything I do is that much harder to do because of the bendybendy.. and my heart struggles to cope with normal shit. So that extra work, on top of 'normal shit' makes life even harder.

3/ Getting to the more minor things now - I am hypothyroid, which I wouldn't normally mention because hey, a lot of folk are. But hypothyroid means you don't have a lot of energy, and normally thats treated by thyroid replacements...

But wait, I have a heart condition, and I particularly have to avoid upsetting my ticker. The thyroid replacements can unfortunately, upset the ticker (cause tachycardia), so I don't take enough thyroid replacement to actually fix the thyroid problem, in case that happens. I just take enough to 'take the edge off it'.

In summary - all these things mean - I am bloody knackered, most of the time. The knock on effect of these things is I suffer a lot of joint and muscular pain, spasms, cramps and falling down. Sometimes it also affects my ability to think clearly and make decisions (and I don't mean life changing decisions, I mean 'what colour loo roll shall we get this week' type decisions!).


I need on average around 14 hours a day sleep, plus naps - but I can't sleep that long because I get serious cramps and spasms and pain if I lie down that long.

I could take lots of heavy duty painkillers - sometimes for a treat, I do - but they render me how shall we say.. off my freaking tits. Which is not conducive to doing anything Useful.

So, if I am a little crabby or short, or snarky - now you have an idea why!

So, well, um. You don't look disabled!

You didn't look like a total cock at the start of this conversation, but appearances can be decieving!

Ouch! So, going back to the painkillers, does it matter, you are a cripple after all, what do you need to do!

Well, I  need to work for one thing - in fact, I have three jobs. Yep, three. I am self employed because I can work, and I want to work... but I can't work long enough or reliably enough for someone else to employ me. Which sucks, but I can understand their position!

Being self employed means that to a certain extent I pick my hours, I can take a break, or a nap, no one gets freaked out if I vomit in the workplace without warning or suddenly wobble off shouting CODE BROWNNNN...

Being self employed also means that even when I am not at work.. I am at work. It also means I don't earn very much at all, and if I am too knackered to work,  I earn nothing.

Doesn't the government pay you to stay home - I read in the Daily Mail that they give you people £30K cars and hundreds of quid a week if you are disabled.

Wellll. No. The government, well the Department of Work and Pensions give's me around £500 a month. Half of that goes on my lease hire car, through the motability scheme. It is not my car, if my benefits stop, the car goes away. Byebye car.

I currently get Disability Living Allowance, which is to help me pay for all the things I need due to being disabled. For example, I need a car big enough to put scooter, wheelchair etc in, and I need that car to go to work, to the shops etc, because I cannot use public transport.

DLA (and PIP which will replace it, eventually) is not an 'out of work' benefit - it is not means tested, it is paid according to how much a disability or illness affects you and what your needs are according to that. Allegedly.

If I don't earn enough money being self employed, that is all I have to live off each month. I currently survive being helped by my family - I am incredibly lucky that they can afford to do that.

What does 'widdling diddling' mean?

You need to listen to some Ian Dury!