Catching the rays…

Just over a week ago we came home from Spain but apart from not having a pool to cool down in, the holiday hasn’t really ended. The ‘mini’ heat wave that Britain is currently experiencing has meant that the sun hasn’t gone from my life… yet. Obviously, history indicates that this weather won’t last forever so I need to enjoy it because unfortunately, winter is rapidly approaching. I should explain to any readers not from the U.K. that 30C may not seem that hot but it is tropical to us islanders as it rarely occurs.

I am guilty of moaning over the past week or so because the heat was more bearable in Spain. Here, it has just been muggy and uncomfortable. It doesn’t help that I still don’t drink as much as I should but that’s slowly improving. Also, being a clean freak, I hate sweat and if there were such a thing, I’d permanently have a shower fitted to my wheelchair. However, if truth be known, I love the summer because it means that anything is possible because you’re not restricted by rain, ice or snow.

The other reason I enjoy the sun is because I love getting a tan. When I laid on the sunbed on day 1, I turned to my mum and joked that I would get my seven years worth of sun. 3 James Bond audiobooks later, I felt proud of the colour I had turned, even if I was a bit burnt in certain areas. That was short lived and turned to disappointment when I saw men walking around topless at the Wireless festival with better tans (and fitter bodies) than me.

Hopefully, the sun will stay in England for the rest of summer and I can continue to top up my tan. I’ve started back at the gym too so I can work on that six pack for the ladies (who am I kidding). I might have to take my Venga down to Southend one day, don’t want to waste these days at a computer. Also, I want to be able to just wear my football shirt alone to a few Arsenal games. Nothing beats watching the team you love playing in glorius sun. You know the old saying, even Tottenham looks better in the sun.

Bye for now!  

Home is where the heart is…

Don’t get me wrong, Spain is a wonderful country but most of the people (not all) are plain rude and it’s more noticeable from a wheelchair. I know that I use this blog to vent my anger at various people who make my life extra difficult but I’ve realised that the British public are what puts the ‘Great’ in Great Britain. I missed them during my holiday (even the Brits who live out there can be a bit up themselves). There is a slight xenophobic undercurrent in Britain but it is clear in Spain that they hate foreigners because of the overall mannerisms and looks of distaste.

I obviously made a few observations about the treatment of disabled people and again, I am pleased to report in a patriotic kind of way that Britain comes out on top. I complain about kerbs and ramps at home but the access in Spain is shocking. The dropped-kerbs are not what you’d ever imagine. There more like inverted slopes off the pavement. Tricky to get down and extremely uncomfortable. Sometimes, the local councils don’t even bother with dropped kerbs. My brother had to bump me down the pavements. No way I could go down on my own.

That brings me on to accessibility. There seemed to be steps everywhere and shops with ramps seemed to be a minority. I had to wait outside shops for my family but it gave me time to top up my tan. Even the ramps weren’t adequate because they were so steep. Health and Safety is a contentious issue but at least you wouldn’t find a ramp that is almost vertical (bit of an exaggeration but you get the picture, ridiculous) in Britain. I think Hannah Cockcroft would even struggle.

The whole culture is to just ignore disability which is good in one way because everyone is treated the same. However, sometimes it’s best to alter your behaviour when you see a disabled person. For example, it should be universally unacceptable to barge in front and get in a lift before a wheelchair user but that’s apparently OK in Spain. Also, at a zebra crossing. Surely you’ll see a disabled person waiting to cross and stop. It appears being polite to disabled people is not a Spanish thing.

It probably sounds like I had an awful time and will never go back but that’s not true. I can cope with a few access problems if the sun is shining and beautiful senoritas are out.  I’m just being patriotic and saying that I’m proud to be British. Although, there is no harm in popping abroad every now and then for the weather! Saying that, it’s pretty decent now albeit I am missing the pool.

Just to clear up, I’m not tarnishing the whole country with one brush but I’m just sharing observations from various places I visited. So, don’t complain.

Bye for now!

Mixed emotions 2...

This time, we agreed to meet my parents at Westfield’s. We came out of the park and made our way up to the station with the crowd. That is where we went inside Westfield’s the previous night (1 AM) to get the lift up to Car Park C, Level 1. However, when I explained to a security guard, he didn’t grasp that and just told us the shopping centre was closed, telling us to go over the bridge. This was ridiculous, as we’d be stuck on the other side of the railway line. Onlookers were shouting “just let him through, he’s in a wheelchair” but the bloke obviously didn’t have common sense.

I was bubbling over and nearly got arrested (I had the urge to smash a window). Then, one of his supervisors came and tried to fob me off with nonsense about health and safety. He was weak and couldn’t handle it so ran off. He came back hiding behind Martin Jackson, his suited manager. I explained my frustrations but he came back by telling me Car Park C was on the ground floor. It wasn’t. I told him so and that he was patronising me by suggesting I got it wrong. He proceeded to take the moral high ground and belittle me further. I told Gavin to push me away before I got violent.

We walked for 30 seconds and were finally let in the centre at a different entrance, no questions asked. This proved the idiocy of Martin Jackson and his cronies because people were allowed free roam of the complex so they could’ve easily let us in. We took the lift up to the first floor and met our parents, who we had been communicating with during the whole stressful period.

Even when I think about it now, my heart begins to race and I get so angry at the absolute jobsworths. They are just vile human beings who put a downer on the festival. I need to forget and move on because everytime I think about it, I want to cry. Hopefully, blogging about it has released most of the tension and I can get back to writing about my holiday tomorrow.

On a lighter subject, Gavin and I wore ‘Wheelchair Boy’ and ‘Little Brother’ T-Shirts at the festival. They got a positive reception and caught people’s attention so I’m glad I bought them. Made people laugh and it might result in more readers. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to bin them because they’re now stained from the smog.

Bye for now!

Mixed emotions...

I’ve just about recovered from Wireless over the weekend. Not that I was drinking or anything but partying for two days running in sweltering heat completely took it out of me. On Saturday, it did feel like I was still in Spain and a siesta would’ve been very appealing. However, I powered through and enjoyed the other acts that evening. Tinie Tempah was amazing before the incredible Calvin Harris on the Pepsi Max stage. Then it was onto the Main Stage to watch Jay Z cap off a brilliant two days. Although Justin Timberlake was great on Friday night, I did prefer the second line-up.

As the title suggests, I came home from the Olympic Park not knowing how to feel, whether to laugh or break down in tears… Yes, I had a fantastic time but there were a few issues. The first problem doesn’t affect me personally but the gravel on the floor made life difficult for my brother to push me. I’m not too sure why they had half of the surface tarmacked so it appeared unfinished. My second query probably affected everyone but after being in the music tents, I came out covered in dirt as if I had been up a chimney. I had to wash when I got home and my clothes are stained. I don’t know what it was but it wasn’t nice.

Those issues are only minor compared to what happened at the end of both days. Our parents dropped us off in the disabled car park on Friday morning and told us to meet them there after. We did but at 23.00, they weren’t there. OK, they’re running late. Should be here soon.  Let’s phone to check. Run out of battery. We waited an hour but still no sign. Just as I was panicking and contemplating whether my brother should go find help, a man in an events jacket spoke to us. He told us that mum and dad were up at the copper box. As it turns out, they couldn’t come to collect us because the stewards/police had forced them into Westfield’s car park. A shuttle bus took us to Stratford and we eventually got back to the car about 2 hours after the concert finished.

What happened the next evening was even worse. I’ll split this up into two blogs so come back tomorrow for the rest.

Bye for now!

I’m back…

Yes, it is all over. The holiday that was seven years in the making finished this morning when the plane touched down in Luton. Getting off onto the tarmac and feeling the cold snap of the air against my skin was certainly a shock to the system (the temperature in Moraira was 30+ every day) and I even had to put a jacket on. However, my holiday blues have been slightly relieved today as I’ve been out enjoying the sun that is rarely seen in England. The 10 days were absolutely brilliant and provided a much-needed break for my whole family. The only complaint I have is that it simply wasn’t long enough but all good things must come to an end.

Apart from tanning myself silly (I could be a cast member in TOWIE), I have lots of exciting and often hilarious stories to tell, which I will publish in the coming weeks. I have a list as long as my arm of ideas for future blog posts so I definitely won’t be running out of ideas anytime soon. I also took an array of pictures to bore people with. The one below is just the beginning but I feel it captures the paradise that we entered on the 30^th June and unfortunately had to leave yesterday. As you can see, the weather was gorgeous and the view was sublime.

I won’t go into too much detail now because I’m tired and need to go to bed ahead of the Wireless Festival. Wheelchair Boy and Little Brother (we’ve had T-Shirts made) will be at the Olympic Park tomorrow and Saturday so no blog until Monday. Who knows, I might write about my experiences seems as this will be my first ever festival. I just hope the weatherman is right so it feels like we’re still in Spain.

Adiós por ahora!