Hello on this delightful final day in May. I thought it was about time I polluted your minds with more of my nonsensical whitterings …
Yesterday afternoon saw one of my most convoluted attempts to travel ever. How so? I have been trying for over a month to attend rehearsals for my beloved Glasgow Studio Orchestra without success due to continuing battles with my own body (hips popping out of sockets and other jolly happenings … !?). The journey had been managed most smoothly the previous evening and I had anticipated another seamless repeat version yesterday. This was not to be as the following list of unfolding disasters will explain …
1. Midlothian council decide to fix the collapsed drain at the foot of my drive-way (where a vehicle such as perhaps a disabled taxi may wish to pull into) 5 minutes before the aforementioned disabled taxi was due to arrive. This unscheduled repair involved 2 trucks completely blocking exit, 4 charming builders and a lot of whistling (on a happier note the sun was shining!). I was at this moment flailing at the top of my drive seated in Vince wheelchair of delights.
2. The blasted disabled taxi forgot to turn up (!?). I am slightly perturbed. This is a specialist wheelie taxi company which allows the travelling wheelie to cover greater distances door-to-door for far less British pounds (£6) than an average taxi (£26) with the bonus feature of a lot less man-handling.
3. Now slightly irritated I phone local taxi companies to take me from my house to the nearest bus stop so I can travel into Edinburgh to catch Mr Choo-choo train to Glasgow. I can hardly hear myself think over the blasted chirpy whistling builders (I have also viewed more unexpected male bum cleavage than is healthy for one late May afternoon). I am slightly more irritated. There is not one taxi to be had as it’s 2.45pm and all cabs are engaged on school runs apparently until after 4pm. I say a swear word which makes the chirpy whistling cease momentarily ….. “What’sa matter hen?” .
4. Decision time ….. do I attempt climbing the hill in wheelie to the bus stop myself or do I wait 2 hours for Doodles to finish work and arrive home with lovely car. Hmmmm ….. I thought of the previous rehearsals I’d been unable to attend …… Hmmmm. Right! It’s up the blasted hill I go!
5. Bad decision! I’m more than a little grumpy now and poised halfway up the hill. I can go no further, my arm muscles are screaming in protest and have strength to neither go up nor down ….. “Bugger! “….”Pardon dear” …. a nice old lady has appeared and proceeds to push me with her grandson round the bend (literally and not out of my mind!?) and up the hill a little further. Lovely! Slightly less perturbed and with renewed conviction I push upwards once more ….
6. “Bugger! ” …… I’m stuck again a few yards further. And what’s more I’m being stared at intensely by a very nervous staffie. “Sorry hen, he’s never seen a wheelchair before …. Come here and say hello Leonard” …… “Arf …. grrrrrr ….. woof …… slurp” (I’m now being licked to death !). This nice Midlothian lady helps me up the rest of the hill and along the main road a little bit to the bus stop. I thank her profusely, get another slobbery kiss from Leonard and she’s off.
7. I’m at the bus stop, the bus is coming and I realise I’ve forgotten my bus pass ……. “Bugger”. In another moment I’m on the bus and Mr nice driver person has waived the fare. A calm 10 minutes follows. 30 seconds later comes the horrible realisation that the bus (which has fast become my haven of rest and recovery) is GOING THE WRONG WAY! “FECK!”.
8. A further 10 minutes later and with head in hands I’m at the big local supermarket waiting for Doodles to collect me and take me to Glasgow in the car as it’s now almost 5pm.
9. In the end I completely missed the pre-concert rehearsal (although not through a lack of trying!?) but did actually make the concert! The concert was exhilarating and the audience very effusive in their appreciation!
10. Later that night and when nearing home Don stopped suddenly and we noted a large plastic cone placed over the still-wet tarmac at the end of the drive blocking the entrance. “Botheration!” …… x