I turned my head away at the mention of a scooter once I was back on my wobbly feet. But the offer of a shopping trip to an outlet mall, when my world was the village, was too good to refuse. So we booked in advance and a kindly man met us at the car and introduced me to my wheels; snail is good for inside, move the knob to hare to get yourself out of a snare...
Inside and on the move my tightly pursed lips gradually broke open as a smile eased its way out. Chris and Val walked as I scooted from shop to shop. Big stores were best as I had yet to master tight manoeuvres. In the home store the girls were studying towels when I, unknowingly, hooked myself up on a metal container of tea towels and happily dragged it behind me until a squeal from a shop keeper made me press stop!! A visit to the loo caused another te-do! I proudly tucked our shopping bags between my knees to save the girls energy. I had the bug. I had freedom. Of sorts.
I discovered that some bird reserves loan out scooters on a first come first served basis and the world of birdwatching reopened its arms. I happily swung my binoculars over my shoulder as we collected my pre booked wheels from Cley Marsh Reserve then Titchwell Marsh in north Norfolk. I zipped from bird hide to bird hide where I parked my ride outside and hobbled in to spot some birds with Mr H.
The Malvern show had been an annual event for Mr H and I but I had dismissed a visit because of the walking involved until I discovered Event Mobility who attend some events with a trailer load of scooters which can be borrowed for a fee. So we went and I came away with my arms full of flowers. But I advise anyone thinking of doing this to go early to mooch as once the shows get busy all you see is bums and bags.
I now volunteer at a social club for adults with disabilities and have been humbled by the acceptance of wheels as an aid to independence, rather than my first interpretation... My failure to walk.
I used to fly everywhere, zipp in and out of traffic in the car, pop out to the shops, think nothing of spending a whole day out, I could walk for hours regardless of terrain.
Now, like a new Mom, I ensure I have planned everything to loo stop detail to give my outing a chance of success. A day out on Saturday at the Malvern show required a Mobility scooter, rented from Event Mobility, a fabulous charity which provides scooters at events and shows.
I booked one a couple of years after my tumour surgery, smiling to myself in the knowledge that I would only be using it once; we enjoyed the show peering at stalls, a special day surrounded by flowers and a group of friends. But the following year I needed one again, the feeling of failure lingered behind my smiles; perhaps I hadn't worked hard enough at the gym or at walking. I didn't go last year.
This year I decided it was unfair to deprive Mr H of the day, and time with friends would be good. I am beginning to accept that scooters play an essential part in days out; I plan to employ my helmet smile and smirk strategy.
I booked my scooter in advance. Dressed in four layers, hat and gloves I sit on 'Celebrity' and win the fight against the cold as it waits impatiently to seep into my bones.
Mr H and I arrive early so that I get a chance of seeing things before the ant like crowds appear, the floral marquee is a joy, the smell of lily's fill my senses as I pass on snail mode. I am the first to spend money as I treat myself to three Auriculars, their exquisite petals will give me pleasure on my table outside the back door.
We meet up with friends when they arrive but separate after a coffee and chat. I encourage Mr H to dip in and out of the plant stalls while I linger on 'Celebrity', most of the stalls are too small to ride into, I park up and get off when my itch to mooch overwhelms me.
The crowds build and Mr H walks in front waving his arms like a bird trying to take flight, creating space for me to manoeuvre along the paths. I try not to drive over toes as I stare at bums, some get a longer stare than others, small and pert versus, large and wobbly, I wonder what mine looks like when I am off the scooter.
The myriad of bums and backs soon prevent glimpses of stalls but I persuade Mr H to explore and find the plants we desire.
Sunday Mr F(atigue) teases, he suggests I have energy when I wake, but as soon as I try to hoe at the allotment I feel awful and Mr H says
sit down you look ashen.
The three hours in the car, constant movement and concentration at the show have drained my battery...again.
My wings may be clipped but as I step outside the back door today I spot my lettuce leaves breaking through the soil and my new Malvern Show plants grin at me, pleading to be planted.
The Malvern show had been an annual event for Mr H and I but I had dismissed a visit because of the walking involved until I discovered Event Mobility who attend some events with a trailer load of scooters which can be borrowed for a fee. So we went and I came away with my arms full of flowers. But I advise anyone thinking of doing this to go early to mooch as once the shows get busy all you see is bums and bags.
