Tag: wheelchair

Raring To Go – Earth Day – The Big One

Tomorrow is Earth Day. Many of my friends in Extinction Rebellion (XR) have set off by coach today, heading for London. I am going there tomorrow, my journey beginning at 6am meaning an early night tonight. We are NOT intending to disrupt the people on the street, but we are gathering around the Houses of Parliament to try to get the urgent message to our politicians, regarding the climate emergency, as recognised by eminent scientists and, of course, the famous and very knowledgeable David Attenborough.

This will be a peaceful gathering with over 30,000 protesters, including over 200 other climate-concerned groups. XR have NO plans to disrupt the London Marathon tomorrow or the Mini Marathon today. We can’t speak for climate protesters from other prominent organisations, such as Insulate Britain and Just Stop Oil etc., as when things go wrong, it is always XR who, unfairly, get the blame. We can’t control the actions of other groups, but I hope they will have the same responsible attitude as us.

I am one of the many drummers from XR, and fortunately, I got my drum secondhand. It was just plain brown wood when I got it, so I decorated it using paints, stencils and stickers. It took me four days to complete it (see photo.) The image of the turtle and the bees represent our dying wildlife. The fish in the ocean are there because our oceans worldwide are polluted by sewage, plastics and vast, abandoned fishing nets.

Being a wheelchair user, as I am, is going to make my participation very challenging. I will have to find places to recharge my wheelchair, as there is a family-friendly nature march tomorrow, and I will, in general, be covering a good few miles. I will travel with my large drum on my lap on the train to London. I’ve never attempted this before. Today, I am preparing to pack everything up ready for my early start in the morning. We are all taking mugs, bowls and reusable cutlery, plus bags to take home our rubbish, as we have no intention of leaving our litter behind. Sometimes, the Hare Krishna people are there with hot food to offer. We are grateful to them.

I will stop here, as I have sooo much to get ready, as you can imagine. I am so excited. I appreciate people have differing views about Extinction Rebellion, but we see no other option, other than to target the government because we are desperately frightened for the future of our children, grandchildren and subsequent generations, who will be affected far more than we already are.

Thank you for reading. Wish me luck (if you wish).

Once again, I do apologise for not being able to read your blogs at this time. Please, be assured that I will get back into the swing of WordPress after the event. My love to you all. Ellie Xx 🌎🌹💚

There Is No Planet B – The Big One

FIRSTLY, AN APOLOGY – I AM HAVING TO TAKE A BREAK FROM WORDPRESS FOR A FEW DAYS AT LEAST. I have so much to prepare for the upcoming event. Also, I have to complete an assignment for my course, which breaks for a couple of weeks on Thursday. After that, I have my son and the children staying. Needless to say, it will be impossible to keep up with reading and commenting on blogs, so I do hope you will understand and forgive me. I will begin again with a fresh start when I come back. Apologies if I haven’t read or commented on your recent posts. Thank you for your understanding.

I wrote this a few days ago, and I decided to share it today before taking a break.

On Saturday, the 22nd of April, I am travelling to the centre of London to attend a vast gathering of people, all opposed to our government’s complete lack of action against climate change and because they are continuing to plough money into fossil fuel industries, thereby gradually wrecking our planet. There are other relevant topics, like how we dispose of our plastics. Most of it isn’t recycled as we are made to believe but is frequently sent abroad, ending up either in the oceans or in landfill where it doesn’t ever break down. The number of trees is declining because of the rate of destruction taking place to enable more roads and interchanges to be built. Without trees in the world, there will be less oxygen for us to breathe. There is so much damage that our government are doing that it would be impossible to mention all of it here.

We must do everything possible to act against the government and make them see sense. The event is called, quite appropriately, THE BIG ONE, thus named because tens of thousands of people from over one hundred organisations, such as Greenpeace, Friends of the Earth, Rewild Britain, Global Justice, Ethical Consumer, The Green Party and many other climate-concerned groups. Also, other organisations like NHS Staff Voices and Keep Britain Tidy will be there, and we will all come together for a peaceful gathering.

The two-hour (or more) journey to London will involve two trains, including at least one underground and possibly a bus. We are all gathering at the Houses of Parliament in London. It is a four-day event beginning on Friday next week, but I am only staying for one day, as camping at night with an electric wheelchair would be too difficult. As it is, the journey could be fraught with obstacles like lifts being out of order, trains arriving too late for a connecting train, and a whole host of other possibilities. Nevertheless, I am determined to be there to play my part.

People (adults and children) are coming from all around the country and many from Europe to take part. It will be a peaceful protest unlike any other.

A few of you know that I am a member of Extinction Rebellion (XR). I realise some people don’t like what we do, but we are getting increasingly desperate about the future of our planet and all life on her. As it is, a large percentage of wildlife is dying off, and some creatures are even becoming extinct. In the UK, the bee and butterfly populations are being decimated by the use of toxic pesticides. Without these insects, there would be no pollination and, subsequently, hardly any crops, flowers, fruits or vegetables. People and many other creatures would begin to starve. The climate is changing, and heatwaves, floods, hurricanes etc., are becoming more frequent. In the UK alone, temperatures last year reached an unheard-of 42C (107F). There will, no doubt, be more of this during this coming summer months.

I fear for our children and our grandchildren, who will be the ones to inherit the Earth from us. It is they who will suffer the loss and damage caused by the governments all over the world and us.

On Saturday, there will be a march for biodiversity with adults and children, many dressed in costumes representing nature. I will be taking part in this, as will many of the people there.

I am an XR drummer and will be playing with others in the band on Saturday. (I’m currently painting and decorating my drum, ready for the event). Playing has its challenges for me in that I will need to drive my wheelchair, Alfie, as well as concentrate on playing the drum with one hand. It’s not going to be easy. I will also have to make the journey with my drum on my lap and carry waterproof clothing in case it rains, plus supplies to get me through the day.

We are NOT locking or glueing ourselves onto roads or vehicles, nor spraying paint on buildings (this wasn’t XR but another environmental group.) We will NOT be causing a nuisance to the general public or blocking roads. We are trying to get our point across to the government and will be there outside the Houses of Parliament for four days. Many people are camping to enable them to stay the whole time. And before anyone imagines we are using cars to get to London; we’re not. Everyone, at least from our organisation, is travelling by coach, bus or train.

We have to do all within our power to get the government to take us seriously. Whether or not we are successful remains to be seen, but at least we are doing our utmost to alter the course of manmade destruction being caused to our planet. We will not give up until positive action is taken.

AFTER ALL, THERE IS NO PLANET B.

NOTE: I realise that it isn’t just the British government who are responsible, but also governments worldwide. However, we are here in the UK and determined to do whatever we can to get the British government to sit up and take note.

I will be happy to answer any questions you have if I can. Please, either ask in the comments or contact me on my contact page. I will reply when I can. Thanks.

My Personal View of Having a Disability

Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow.

Mary Anne Radmacher

One of my blogging friends, Melinda, from ‘Looking For The Light’, posted on her blog that March was Disability Awareness Month. I hadn’t heard of this, possibly because we don’t have this day in the UK. However, I’d been thinking about writing about my view of being a disabled person. I said I would do this before the end of March, as it seemed an appropriate time to write my own perspective.

So … just a bit of background information … Many years ago, I was involved in a fairground accident, which injured my cervical and lumber spine, meaning that some of the nerves from these areas were damaged. This affected my ability to walk, move, feed myself, or drink out of an ordinary mug or cup. I had a lot of care to begin with, but was determined to be independent.

I’ve come to terms with my accident and my disability. I wouldn’t have it any other way now. If I were given a wish, it wouldn’t be to rid myself of my disability. I am who I am; I am learning to love and care for myself. I can manage a few steps with a walking trolley indoors; I have an adapted kitchen and a wonderful electric powerchair called Alfie, who is my legs and wheels combined. Alfie allows me to travel independently. I don’t drive. I can’t even get a taxi; believe it or not, my town has no wheelchair-accessible cabs!

Buses are a nightmare and nigh-on impossible to navigate. Trains are relatively easy (except in the rush hour), as I learned from visiting London (40 miles away) to see my late Mum when she was in the stroke rehab. hospital. Travelling in rush hour means being packed like a sardine and at the exact height to be thumped on the head by someone casually throwing their bag onto their shoulder. Worse still, in the crowds, I’m perfectly lined up with all those armpits – close up – some more fragrant than others!

Travelling about is both a frustration and a joy. I can ride at 8mph (13 km/h), which is pretty speedy, and I am lucky to live near a foot/cycle path that takes me into town. I never knew which side to travel on, given that I’m neither a pedestrian nor a bike. I used to get dirty looks from disgruntled people on either side of the path. Well, where on Earth am I meant to go? I now drive down the white line in the middle! Problem solved!

The weather can be a challenge sometimes. I can’t use an umbrella as I’m driving with one hand and holding my bags with the other. If it rains, I get soaked – simple as that. I’ve got used to it, and knowing that my skin is waterproof and clothes will dry off, it really doesn’t bother me anymore. Yes, I could get one of those plastic capes for wheelchair users, but I wouldn’t be seen dead in one of those! So, does it serve me right if I get soaked – yes, I guess it does! Snow is out of the question. Living at the top of a steep hill, as I do, makes it far too dangerous to even step foot (wheel, in my case) out of the door.

Also, I have two major phrases used by many people, most commonly found in (but not isolated to) the US, both of which I detest with a passion. The first is one I hear said a lot on American television programmes, and that’s the use of the word ‘handicap’ when referring to a disabled person or in a car park as the description given to the allocated ‘handicapped’ parking space, as opposed to, in the UK, where we have accessible parking spaces or Blue Badge parking. The term ‘handicap’ is only used in the UK as a type of insult these days.

The other phrase that gets me is the description of a disabled wheelchair user as ‘wheelchair-bound’ or, worse still, ‘bed-bound.’ I’m not bound to my wheelchair or my bed by ropes, as the phrase might suggest. Please, think before using those terms. Thank you.

My pet hate is being stuck indoors against my will, either because of the weather or, like this week, because my battery decided to fail, and I had to wait two days for an engineer to come out to fit a new one. I feel a sense of panic as my independence is taken away, and I’m trapped at those times, and that’s not a desirable feeling for anyone. If you can imagine giving up your legs for a while, that’s what it feels like for me not to have my wheels. If all else fails, thank goodness for online shopping and Amazon.

Finally, I count myself lucky. I realise that not all disabled people feel the same way as I do. This is just my personal view of living with a disability and being a wheelchair user. I am, on the whole, very happy in my own skin.  

If you have any questions you would like me to answer, please feel free to ask in the comments section; alternatively, you can reach out to me through my ‘contact me’ page. Thank you.



The Alleyway (A Poem)

Driving down the alleyway, buildings either side
looking out for strangers as there was nowhere to hide
The sky was dusky pink as the sun began to set
I should have gone the long way; now, full of regret.

I travelled further onward while I looked in all directions
What a fool am I to set out without protection
I reached into my pocket and grasped at my alarm
At least I had a halfway chance of avoiding any harm

Looking up skywards, I could see the crescent moon
Trying to be brave, I whistled out my loudest tune
Shadows of my wheelchair from the strobing streetlight
The bulb’s on the blink, don’t fail now; I cannot fight

Suddenly, a sound could be heard from up ahead
Imagination at its worst, fearing I could soon be dead
Should I turn and speed away back the way I came?
My life could be in danger, with just myself to blame

My forehead was sweating; my heart banging like a drum
Glancing up into the sky and  hoping help would come
It was my own stupid fault; I should have gone the other way
I pictured my early death; what would the neighbours say?

As the shadow of the person was getting very near
I was absolutely terrified and wished I wasn’t here
He approached me with a beer can, knocking back the drink
My mind in total panic mode, not knowing what to think

As he staggered towards me; my head was in a spin
A waft of marijuana and, on his breath, the smell of gin
His words left me surprised; “I’ve not come for a fight.”
I’ve locked myself out, missus. Have you got a light?




Photo by FOX: https://www.pexels.com/

On the Death of Our Queen

Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II – 1926 – 2022

As a UK citizen, the death of our Queen came as quite a shock yesterday afternoon. Naïve, perhaps, given her age. I should have expected it, but somehow, because it was only three days ago, when she was pictured smiling whilst greeting and welcoming our new Prime Minister, Liz Truss, I was, for a while, lulled into a false sense of security. I’m not a fan of Liz Truss at all, but I didn’t envy her having to come up with a speech within two hours of the Queen’s death.

I’m not a staunch royalist, but I have a lot of respect for the royal family despite all the difficulties various family members have encountered over recent years. After all, they may be royals, but underneath the surface, they are just human beings and as fallible as the rest of us.

I have never known another King or Queen to be on the throne; it’s going to take some getting used to saying King Charles; I keep going to say Prince Charles. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels the same.

Some of you may know (and perhaps, disapprove; not that I need approval), but I’m a member of Extinction Rebellion (XR), as I’m passionate about taking action against climate change and getting our government to act like it’s the emergency that it is. However, I’m not going into a political debate here. There was due to be an XR festival in London this weekend. I was going to go, which would have been a real challenge as it meant a journey to Hyde Park via one overground train, one underground train and two buses – all in my wheelchair, Alfie. I was determined to take part, though. Obviously, under the sad circumstances, it would not have been respectful for this to continue to take place; apart from which, Hyde Park is one of the royal parks, so that deemed it even more inappropriate. Of course, rebels were disappointed as an awful lot of work had gone into the planning and organising the event. I’m sure it will be rescheduled for a later date.

Anyhow, that’s all I wanted to say. I very much feel for the royal family in their grief as the UK enters a period of mourning. Naturally, not everyone feels the same; some people on a local neighbourhood website have been downright disrespectful. Is that really necessary, I ask myself? No, I think not. If they don’t have anything kind to say, then I believe, under the circumstances, they should keep quiet. Why is it necessary to be so rude, albeit everyone is entitled to their opinions? So, now the UK has entered a new era. I wonder what changes will be made now that Charles is King.

My deepest condolences and respect to the royal family.
RIP Queen Elizabeth II.

The Wildlife In My Garden

Bumble bee on a buddleia in my garden

I’ve had three requests from my lovely readers to write a blog about my rather wild garden, so here it is. It will be primarily photos rather than writing, so I hope you won’t be disappointed. I’ve lived at my house in Essex in the UK for over thirty years. The railway runs across the bottom of the garden, and a river runs at the bottom of my road. I cannot get out into my garden now that I use a wheelchair because there is no access apart from on foot. Most of these photos were taken before the accident that left me with a disability and before I badly fractured my pelvis a few years ago. The garden is mainly grass in the middle but has dozens of wildflowers growing through it (some people may call them weeds, but I disagree). Nothing in it is cultivated. Everything has seeded itself naturally. These are just some of the wildflowers growing in the grass – daisies and buttercups, wild violets, forget-me-nots, orange hawkweed amongst some dandelions and a photo of a single buttercup.

At the back of my garden is a steep bank full of mature trees of various types. I have elm, ash, sycamore and others including hawthorn which has white flowers. There are also bluebells there in the very early spring.

At the side of the garden are some shrubs that have come under the fence from my neighbour’s garden, which I was delighted to see. These were (on the left) euphorbia, some unknown yellow flowers and green alkanet. There is also (on the right) a yellow forsythia bush, an elderberry shrub with black berries with which you can make delicious elderberry juice or wine and another unknown shrub with yellow/orange berries.

Finally, I have taken some shots of plants and trees triumphing over adversity. These are proof that nature will always find a way, whether it’s a wildflower growing through concrete or a tree that was once chopped down to near the base, which is now producing branches and leaves.

We must protect all these wildflowers and trees as they are essential to insects, butterflies and bees. Trees are being chopped down, and small creatures are now in decline in our world, and without them, humans (and many larger animals) will eventually be unable to survive. Nature without the human race would do very well, but humans cannot survive without nature.

I do hope you’ve enjoyed your time in my garden. I realise I am fortunate to live in such a beautiful place in the UK, where there is an abundance of trees and plants to be seen. The pictures I’ve included in this post are just a few of them. I’d be pleased to hear your comments and perhaps, suggestions as to what else I could add to my garden. Thank you so much for reading and viewing my photos.

We could die, and nature would almost certainly be fine. But humans cannot survive without nature. Our culture, everything that makes us human, cannot survive without nature.

Harrison Ford

Travelling in Style!

Travelling in style!!

I thought yesterday was thwart with difficulties. Today, I really did it in style! I’d just travelled down to town in Alfie, my new electric powerchair when I started to feel out of kilter. Uh, oh, I’d had this feeling before. I immediately looked over Alfie, only to discover two completely flat rear tyres! Not again … the last time this happened, I was on the end of the longest pier in the world at Southend-on-Sea! It’s 2.16 kilometres! You can read this here – Sunnier Climes – Part 2 – The Pier.

I was sitting outside M&S (Marks & Spencer) – a big chain store, especially in the UK. I needed assistance, so I limped slowly into the entrance to attract a store assistant. I could feel the rims scraping the ground with every limping inch. Ouch. I just managed to get inside the door out of the hot, bright sun. Fortunately, I have a rescue service as part of my lease contract for such occasions; I phoned them to be told they would be with me as soon as they could.

An hour later, still waiting, I was getting cold as I’d only managed to drive as far as the freezer cabinets by the door. I hadn’t thought to bring a jacket on such a beautiful day. A lovely assistant approached me and asked if I’d like a hot drink. She came back with a coffee. She also picked up a vegan sandwich for me. I was hungry by then. As the hours were ticking away, I was getting very cold, so they gave me one of the Stock Controller’s freezer jackets to put around my shoulders till my transport came. The shop staff were wonderful – they couldn’t have been more helpful and friendly. I’ll definitely be making a call to Customer Services tomorrow to give my compliments and to ask for the staff to be personally thanked.

I sat and waited … and waited … and waited. One of the assistants kept popping his head out of the door to see if there were any signs of rescue. Nothing. I phoned the rescue people again, only to be told they were having difficulties finding a vehicle to collect me. More waiting.

After three-and-a-half hours, a man in grey and orange overalls and muddy boots came toward me. This was my knight in shining armour! I was very pleased to see him. He’d come to take my wheelchair home and helped me into a waiting taxi as he wasn’t allowed to carry passengers. Just as I got home, I saw a truck outside with Alfie on the back. It was a 7.5-ton pick-up truck!! Apparently, that’s all they had available. Some neighbours had come out to watch as my knight guided Alfie, looking very sorry for himself, down the ramp. Finally, we were home. What a day. Lucky I’ve got a very good sense of humour. I won’t live this one down for a long time!

I’ll never live it down 😂

Best Foot Forward …

The only photo of me in the flesh that you’re likely to ever see! I’m shy.
Make the most of it – it’s not likely to happen again 😉!

I thought I’d give you a little background information about my disability. It’s not something I’ve previously spoken about much in my blog, so this is my story.

I started life as an able-bodied little girl who did all the usual activities that young children do. I was always small, skinny and underweight, but there were advantages to being as I was. I could shin up the gym apparatus faster than many children in my class. Considering I was sometimes thought of as a weed, I did pretty well. I grew up, married, had my two children, Tom and Clare, and then my ex left. I continued to raise the children alone and also had to work to bring some money in for us to live on. It was a tough time, but I was very content. Between school runs, the children’s football matches and netball, I was a carer and home help for ten years (I’d initially trained as a secretary and worked in the City of London for several years). I combined my work which I loved, with caring for Tom and Clare; we were a very happy little family.

When the children were about thirteen and eleven, I saved enough to take them to the funfair in town (Essex in the UK). It was there that I had my accident which was to change the course of my life.
When our carriage crashed, I felt a tremendous jolt that jarred my neck and spine. Eventually, after a lengthy spell in hospital (with my children staying with my Mum) and with many tests, x-rays, scans and examinations, the doctors decided I’d damaged the nerve endings leading from my spine. They said it was permanent. It was an awful lot to come to terms with, but over time, I grew, not so much to accept it but more to live my life despite it. I wasn’t about to give in easily. The pain was awful, though, and I was on morphine for quite a while. It wasn’t all bad – I was away with the fairies much of the time 😄!

Fast forward twenty years. It was recommended that I have a DEXA Scan as osteoporosis was suspected, given that I’d always been small-boned, had experienced a few years previously with anorexia, and being unable to exercise very often. When I got my results, I was unsure who was more shocked, the radiographer or me. My T-scores were appallingly low. A score of -2.5 indicates osteoporosis, but mine was -4.5, which meant I had severe osteoporosis.

Degrees of osteoporosis
Mine is severe, meaning there is more air space (in brown) and very little solid bone (shown in beige). It’s a wonder I haven’t entirely disintegrated!!

I was told I could die if I fractured my hip or be left even more disabled if I injured my spine. I have to admit I was scared – very scared. Every move I made seemed risky, and I lived in fear for a while. I became super-careful with everything I did, but two years ago, I tripped over Peanut (my new cat) while transferring from my wheelchair to my walking frame. There I was being rushed off to Accident & Emergency for the second time. I was in agony. I’ve never felt pain like it. After all the x-rays and scans came back, the doctors announced that I’d broken my pelvis, not once, not twice, but in six different places. I don’t do things by halves. If I’m going to have an accident, I’ve got to do it in style!

Strangely enough, contrary to what most people would think, I don’t have any regrets; I’m not angry or bitter or in the least bit dissatisfied with my life. I am who I am. Without the experiences I’ve been through, I wouldn’t be me. I wouldn’t be Ellie.

My next post (Part Two) will be about my journey back to good health and where I intend to go from here on in.

Okay … these aren’t my legs, but just an indication of where I go next on my journey. Look out for part two.

The Missing Mum Years

My childhood home

This is my dear late Mum’s house as it stands now. It was my childhood home until I married at twenty years of age and moved out. I’ve been reminiscing about this house over the last couple of days. One of my sisters had been back to visit there recently. Although she advised me against it, I asked her to share her photo with me. Big mistake! Huge mistake, in fact. It’s no longer how I remember it. Gone is the beautiful orange door (not that it’s visible in this picture) – it’s been replaced by a dull grey. The window frames have all been painted stark white over the original orange. Orange was Mum’s favourite colour. The steps outside are also not visible in this photo. The neat box hedge has completely overgrown, as has the glorious pink azalea shrub. I feel so sad. I shouldn’t have asked to see this photo. I should have known it would be different now, six years after losing my Mum. I still miss her so much. I always will.

The steps at the front of the house were a barrier for me for the last four years before Mum passed away. Being a wheelchair user now, there was no way I could climb them to get into the house. To make matters worse, Mum was severely agoraphobic, which meant she couldn’t leave there. It meant that we didn’t see each other for all that time. It broke my heart (and hers). We spoke on the phone a lot, especially towards the end. I would call two or three times a day to check she was okay. She mainly was as fit as a fiddle … until she had her stroke. Before that happened, she would vigorously mow the grass, raking it up, digging and planting flowers and tomatoes.

Those last four years were so painful. I didn’t feel sorry myself; I never did, but I felt angry and frustrated about my disability stopping me from seeing her. It was hard to come to terms with, and we missed each other terribly. The only time I got to see her in those last years was when, towards the end, she was admitted to hospital after her stroke. Hospitals are nearly always accessible. She was never the same after that happened. I wrote a post about this at the time. You can read about it at https://elliethompson.uk/2016/11/26/grief-without-death/.

I’m glad I can’t see the inside of the house; it must be so different now, and it would only upset me further. The kitchen was always my favourite room. The kitchen units were orange, as was her one-person teapot, which sat permanently on the side waiting to be filled. She loved her cups of tea and her toast and marmalade, which she’d have for breakfast every morning. After we lost Mum, there were all the usual formalities to arrange; the funeral, the interment, the house to sort out etc. My sisters came from various parts of the country to deal with all this, but I had no choice, being unable to go up those damn steps. My sisters were very kindly involving me as much as possible by taking pictures of everything, so I could decide what I’d like to have. I chose Mum’s little orange teapot. It reminded me so much of her.

Mum’s orange teapot sitting comfortably on my kitchen windowsill

I have a tradition now. Every year, on Mum’s birthday and on Mother’s Day, I take myself off to a quaint tea shop in my city. I order myself a pot of tea (I usually drink coffee) and some toast and marmalade. Sometimes, I order a slice of cake – Mum always enjoyed her cake. Having recently bought the loveliest card I could find in John Lewis, I sit for a couple of hours and write to her. I write it as a conversation between us, just as if she were there with me, drinking tea and eating toast or cake. It makes me feel closer to her at those times. I wish she were still here to join me. But, however much I write, it’ll never make up for those four years when I couldn’t see her. I missed so much of her later life. I think I’ll always miss her – the pain doesn’t lessen. Perhaps, it will in time.

Sunnier Climes – Part 2 – The Pier

At the beginning of March, I wrote a post about my holiday to Southend-on-Sea during the summer of 2018 – https://elliethompson.uk/2022/03/06/sunnier-climes-part-1/ . This is the continuation of that experience.

Seven Hotel – Southend-on-Sea

It was a beautiful day in July when I set off from the rather plush Seven Hotel and headed for the pier. The train that went almost the length of it hadn’t started running yet as I’d set off very early in the morning. It was the hottest day we’d had in the UK for three years at over 33 degrees, and I’d thought I’d get out before the peak of the heat hit. As I sped off in my electric wheelchair, George, the welcome breeze swept through my hair. It was exhilarating, and I was soon at the halfway point. I looked back at the distance I’d travelled and admired the view. The sky was hazy with the heat, but the sea was blue. The gleaming white buildings, hotels and apartments were in the distance now.

The view from Southend Pier.

I trundled across the pier’s wooden planks, thoroughly enjoying myself with the seagulls flying high above me, squawking loudly. The café was right at the end, and I thought I’d stop there and grab some breakfast and a coffee. Twenty minutes later, when I’d almost reached my destination, the clackety-clack of the wood below my wheels began to sound odd. The planks were old and worn in some places but perfectly sound. After a few more metres, the noise became louder. I wasn’t too concerned and had my eye on the sign at the end. I stopped to take this photo. It read …

Congratulations. You’ve reached the end of Southend Pier.

I could see the café up ahead and was looking forward to my breakfast. I was nearly there. I went to set off again when I suddenly realised that something was wrong. My wheelchair was leaning to one side. I looked down, and there was a completely flat tyre. What a place to get a puncture! Now, what do I do?

I turned to look over my shoulder and saw a couple behind me, although quite some way back. I waved at them frantically. To my dismay, they seemed to assume I was simply being friendly and waved back at me! As they got nearer, they could see my predicament and stopped to offer their help. I had no idea how I would get back to the land end of the pier.

Southend Pier – the longest pier in the world at 2.16 kilometres

The couple said they’d go to the café to get assistance, and soon, they returned with a manual wheelchair. I transferred into it, but there was still the dilemma of what to do with my chair. I certainly wasn’t going to abandon it. The only thing to do was push my chair, George, onto the train with me by his side and head back to land. A great idea, but there was a problem. The goods carriage was the only space big enough to take my chair, and that was filled with crates of wine bottles and beer for the café. There was no option but to unload it all onto the platform. The guard was not impressed! Finally, they got me on the train and back to terra firma. I then had to wait for an hour-and-a-half before the breakdown vehicle came and rescued me, brought me back to my hotel and whipped George off to have a new tyre.

I can laugh about it now, but that’s one holiday I shall never forget!