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Giraffes, Bus Stops and Idiots


So, it’s a Wednesday afternoon (Thursday evening by the time you read this), it’s raining in the same way that it has done all week and I have nothing interesting to say. Since we last spoke, I have written and replied to emails, sorted out my abysmal finances, and attended meetings. I mean, the meetings were productive, but there’s nothing to report on just yet. How do these daily bloggers churn out content without making stuff up? Their life can’t be that fascinating. Sorry folks, you’ll have to listen to my ramblings.

In a last-ditch attempt to come up with something readable, I text my friend, you know, the Dutch one who’s moved to Dublin. Although most of our conversations revolve around my love of giraffes, we do chat about things that make me think. “Any inspiration with regards to the next blog?” I said. Her response was a resounding “no”, and so we moved back to our happy place – giraffes and idiots.

She mentioned that she was in the process of holding interviews for a maintenance guy at work because the original one got the hump and left. Apparently, everything was going swimmingly; the first interviewee had a bad back and the second couldn’t climb the stairs. This begs the question of why on earth did they apply for the position in the first place. It’d be like me thinking I had a shot at becoming a Prima Ballerina. What idiots!

Speaking of idiots. I went out with friends last night, but timings fell right in the middle of my care gap, so I got the bus. As much as I’m not overly keen on them because nine times out of ten they’re kinda inaccessible, I can just about get on and off them safely. In that respect, they’re a means to an end as they give me freedom and independence.

Off I went in the rain, becoming increasingly soaked due to the fact that I haven’t yet mastered the art of putting my own coat on. I crossed the road to the bus stop only to discover the curb to get under the shelter wasn’t lowered. When I say this, I don’t mean it’s visibly steep. Naturally then, with my gung-ho approach to life, I thought I’d be perfectly fine to mount the pavement. Epic fail. I was left teetering on the edge whilst my back wheels, which were still on the road, hindered oncoming traffic and my front wheels were floating in mid-air. We’ve all had those moments when every possible scenario flashes through your mind in a split second. Option one was that I continued moving forward in the hope that I didn’t end up resembling a turtle on its back. Option two was that I reversed and found a more accessible route in the hope that I didn’t become roadkill. I opted for the latter.

Once I made it onto the pavement in one piece, it was time to negotiate another design flaw. The bus shelter was set so far forward on the pavement that it was too narrow for me to do a 180 in order to escape the English weather without running the risk of being back in the same conundrum. This begs the question of why on earth wheelchair users weren’t consulted before Lincolnshire County Council built the bus stop in an inaccessible, inconvenient and dangerous place.

What’s the moral to the story? Use a bit of common sense; apply for jobs you can actually do. And if you’re unsure about something, ask someone who knows.

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