New Year is also the time I start thinking about holidays (blame a childhood filled with January Sale Thomas Cook adverts).
But honestly, what’s the point? Disabled people can’t get around.
To wit, at the end of December I tried to have a microstaycation in London to dodge the rail strikes.
I took the Tube. I asked the Transport for London staff to call ahead from King’s Cross to Farringdon, and they were lovely.
And a man met me at Farringdon. And then he went off to get a ramp, without having told the driver about helping an ‘MIP’ (TfL speak for a mobility impaired person – doesn’t sound quite as cool as a VIP – visually impaired person – nice upgrade status pun they’ve got), so the doors closed, we waved farewell to Farringdon, and had to keep going until we got to another wheelchair accessible station.
It doesn’t even matter that it’s accessible, it’s more pain, more energy output, and frankly, more bulls**t, as you have to find staff to help you navigate, wasting time, effort and energy which you don’t need or want to do.
Coming back on the train, the Southeastern station staff were more interested in seeing my ticket (in my handbag, out of reach, as one of my hands wasn’t working) than getting me through the barrier to the train which was about to leave.
I offered them a handbag rummage, and impressed upon him the urgency of the situation, but he was in full Cartman mode and couldn’t see beyond his need for me to dig out my ticket.
Basic common sense goes out the window far too often at ticket barriers.
If it had not been for the intervention of a lovely colleague who knows my face from past visits, I would not have made that train.
Further, it was hard to make, due to Network Rail plumping for the most stupid ramps in all London termini, horned things with wheels, which are great for station staff to move around, and rubbish for the people they are designed for – they are too narrow for many wheelchairs and powerchairs.
I can walk a bit with pain, so I can use the ramp and someone can carry up my chair, but if I couldn’t, what are they going to do to get me on the train? Catapult me?
Buses are no better. Ramps deployed in London half poking out, then withdrawing back into the bus, then poking out, like a tarmac covered child’s tongue – cute for a bit, then deeply annoying.
And planes. Planes! Even the lovely Sophie Morgan, who is a friggin’ goddess AND a TV name gets the computer says no treatment.
Last month she tried to fly, it’s a big part of her work, and had to use the wheelchair on the plane.
These are skinny little things, and must be pushed by staff. She was told to push it herself, wasn’t told which loo was accessible (loo accessibility is a rarity – many disabled people use enemas and liquid intake restriction to manage flights – I wish I was joking), and was told to rely on her friend for her in-plane mobility.
British Airways. ‘Fly the friendly skies’. ‘The world’s favourite airline’. We’ll take more care of you’. ‘To fly. To serve.’ Yeah. None of those straplines is making much honest sense to disabled people.
But ‘wheely not glad to see you’ or ‘Crips! Hold your piss for air miles!’ don’t really draw in the punters.
