A trip down memory lane…

On Tuesday night, Arsenal Ladies played their first league match of the season at the Emirates. It sounds odd seems as the men’s season is coming to a close but the FAWSL should keep me entertained throughout the Summer (particularly June which is the most boring month of the year), Anyway, I’m not going to talk about the match as we lost 4-0 to Liverpool Ladies. Although it sounds like a whitewash, the team were quite unlucky (although you probably won’t believe me). It wasn’t a wasted journey up to North London though.

The sun was out and it was the definition of a gorgeous evening. After having a pre-match meal and purchasing the tickets, there was still an hour until kick-off so to my sisters dismay, I thought we’d go and check out the original home of football. After a short stroll (my sister was pushing so was knackered but surprisingly I wasn’t) we arrived outside Arsenal station. I sat outside recalling buying sweets from the kiosk next-door and queuing up for a train home after the match. It may sound sad but then I realised that Highbury is my spiritual home. Outside the famous Marble Halls, I shut my eyes and saw a vivid image of my mum having a panic attack because of the crowds celebrating the Double in 2002with an open-top bus parade.

That is when I began to get emotional. Not only do I want them days back because we were the best team in England but life was better from a personal point of view. I was young without a worry in the world, quite popular and, most importantly, I could walk. Also, I hate the way football has gone. The Emirates is just too corporate and soulless. Even from the outside, Highbury just feels like this grand place, full of the history of my Arsenal. Aside from me getting upset at the state of the beautiful game, I was just enjoying the nostalgia and re-living going inside the West Stand.

I’m not sure if you are meant to but we went into Highbury Square and saw the gardens (where the pitch was). This allowed me to enjoy more memories of where I used to sit and watch goal after goal. As I was narrating my childhood experiences visiting the stadium to my sister, I fantasised that in years to come I might be able to tell my son/daughter about it. That’s hoping they like football but I’ll definitely try hard to make them little gooners.

Give me memories any day over being a Chelsea fan. I won’t be able to walk again and Highbury is now flats (which I’d love to live in) but hopefully the memory of wining the league will become a reality again.

B`ye for now!

America is the greatest…

That is sarcasm right there. Now, I am sure it is a great country and it is one I am desperate to visit. Not least, because of the brilliant exports such as my beloved ‘Glee’. The US of A (Borat reference for my older readers) is also birthplace to my two favourite funny-men, Will Ferrell and Adam Sandler. That brings me on to the film industry and why I began with a little bit of mockery aimed at those across the pond. America is synonymous with Hollywood, which in turn is the home of the best actors/actresses from around the world starring in huge blockbuster movies.

On Friday, I went to see the latest big screen success ‘Olympus has fallen’. It, like ‘Argo’, is brilliant and keeps you on the edge of your seat (good job I was strapped in my wheelchair). Although it’s not true and slightly racist (deliberately turns you against North Koreans), I’d recommend paying the extortionate price for a ticket that cinemas charge nowadays. However, I am getting fed up of constantly watching films that glorify the ‘Land of Freedom’ (would not be surprised if that is a future title).

Not only do they over-celebrate and, at times, sensationalise America’s short history but also the string of films seems to include propaganda. ‘Olympus’ is definitely sending out a “do not mess with us” message to North Korea. Whereas, ‘Argo’ and ‘Zero Dark 30’ are commending two famous institutions, bigging up the work of the CIA and the Military. Both do not show the controversy behind the stories. I am making no accusations but didn’t a country in the 1930’s get criticized for making the public support the government through messages in the media? Just saying.

Some might say that I am jealous because Britain have not had a feel good film recently but that’s not because we lack interesting stories, we just do not like to blow our own trumpets. Instead of an extravagant movie, which ends with the capture of the World Most Wanted and emphasising our great authority, we have low budget films with Ray Winstone dishing out retribution to Danny Dyer for sleeping with his wife. And we’re proud of it!

Just to clarify, there was no malice behind them comments. I was just pointing out a fact that has been annoying me of late. I do not want to lose any of my international readers. If I did offend you, watch this video. It is sort of related but all that matters is that it is hilarious. Stewart Lee comments on this “American blind patriotism” at the end of this clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uj2LcKdRU0o

It may be quite a long-winded joke but stick with it, the punch line is worth it.

Bye for now!

It could be worse…

A question that people, especially those who are close to me, tend to ask is how does ‘Wheelchair Boy’ cope with being disabled? Observant readers will already know the answer from the title. Yes, I have a rare condition that only affects 1 in 50,000 people so I’m quite unlucky. It has many symptoms, not least that I’m permanently wheelchair bound but that’s not really a problem. I suppose you could say that I’ve become used to Friedreich’s Ataxia. In an ideal world, I would be normal but, apologies for bursting the bubble, nothing about the world is ideal. Life is just about dealing with reality and I’ve learnt to do that.

The way I do that is realising it’s not bad after all. I may be in a wheelchair but at least I’m not in excruciating pain (apart from when I kick the wall in the middle of the night). I may get funny looks or comments but at least I get to see and hear them (at the moment anyway). I may have to go for endless check-ups at the hospital but at least I come out after an hour (1 hour is a little bit optimistic). Being disabled is not a blast, as you will have picked up from my numerous rants, but it’s also not the worst thing I could’ve been born with. At least I have a fully functioning brain (well, I think I have…errrrrrrr).

Recently, I heard a cancer patient speaking on the radio. He was in a brilliant mood, cracking jokes and being positive about the future eventhough doctors only gave him a few months to live. This illustrates my point nicely because it shows that however bad life gets, it could always be worse. The man was grateful of all the love and support from his family but pointed out not everyone is that lucky.

I know there are some who look at me with pity and feel sorry for ‘Wheelchair Boy’. The question is why? My life is great and the main reason for that is I am breathing. Without sounding cliché or perhaps a bit high, being alive to fight another day is all that matters.

Bye for now!

Taking it to the limit…

I’m not going to lie, yesterday was hard work but so worth it because I feel fresh and revitalised. I came out of the gym feeling exhausted, looking knackered (someone pointed that fact out) and sweating buckets. You might argue that considering it was my first session, I pushed myself too much. However, that’s just the way I am. I enjoy a challenge and like to be thrown in at the deep end (not literally because I can’t swim). I cannot simply go easy at first and work my way up because of my competitive nature. For example, I managed 2km in 12 minutes with my first attempt but I’d like to beat that today.

There are people who lack motivation when it comes to exercise or run out of steam. That will not be me. I want to do it for myself but I’d also like to inspire others because if ‘Wheelchair Boy’ can do it, anyone can. Once I set a target, I have to stick to it. All the hilarious comedians out there will laugh at that comment and say ‘University shows that you don’t see things through’. To be fair, I didn’t state I would finish Uni, that was only implied. I did state that I would do the London Marathon and that’s why I will be spending a lot of time at the gym.

With the marathon, I’ve been thinking a lot more about it. Next year is definitely out of the question because the ballot is closed and the wheelchair problem might take longer than expected. I may benefit from getting a custom built one powered by a hand cycle because the course will take ages in a normal manual wheelchair. So, 2015 is the aim now. Just need a charity to race for and think about how to raise funds for a chair.

I’m off for round 2 and to do this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vCadcBR95oU

Bye for now!

Make your mind up…

I’ve just got back from the relatively new Westminster Lodge Leisure Centre after my pretty short induction to the gym. It was a bit of a non-event for me because all it involved was the woman showing my carer how the machines came apart and I can wheel in. As I’ve deliberately suggested, she did address my carer for parts of it. Not all the time I must add. She did speak to me as well. However, that’s what makes the whole thing worse. Normally, people either speak directly to me like a real human or are completely patronising and go above my head. Never in between. This actually confused me and put me on edge.

When I first met her, she asked how old I was to which I replied 19, a “great age” apparently. Anyone else, I might have thought it was flirty banter but I was just waiting for her to say “who’s a big boy then?”. I gave her time though because disabled people are scary (not going to lie) and if you haven’t met one before, ignorance at first is sort of excusable. But, after having a conversation and discovering that I have a sense of humour like her, I don’t understand why she would continue speaking about me as if I am not there. It is pretty clear I’m not a child. We established that I’m 19.

I thought that talking about my motive for joining the gym (the London Marathon, not perving on women as a few have said) would illustrate that I’m serious about working out. A bit of concern came on her face as she explained that it was a “really difficult race”. My carer said after that she probably thought I saw the marathon on the T.V. and, in Little Britain style said, “I want that one”. I do know that I’m not going to get fit overnight and it will take a lot of hard training. She did reassure me that “I could do it”. Thanks but I know. It wouldn’t be an aim for me if it was impossible.

After my necessary induction, I now feel I’m ready for my first session tomorrow. One step at a time though (the pun was intended).

Bye for now!