Despite the fact that I've spent what seems like the best part of the last two days being pushed, prodded and poked (and quoting from commercials) by "helpful" people, I'm actually feeling quite cheerful.

The one long term reader of my blog might remember that in one of my first posts, I mentioned about how my wheelchair conducts vibrations rather well, and people who pass me in the street think (hope) I'm rehearsing for a role in such a play as When Harry Met Sally or The Vagina Monologues. Well, on Saturday, when passing over a particularly mini-orgasm inducing doormat thingy in a shopping centre (in The Grafton Centre in Cambridge if any wheelchair users reading want to try it out for themselves. Go on. Give the cleaners something to do), and my friend who I was with at the time mentioned I might like to give The Millenium Bridge a try sometime, as he thought it appeared as if they were of a similar surface.

Oh for the public cheap thrills. And most people think being disabled is just about discrimination, oppression, and patronising old ladies.

Anyway... this afternoon, I was at a loose end (perhaps a poor choice of phrase in this context) and decided to give The Millenium Bridge a try.

As I approached the bridge, the first thing I thought was "Fuck that's steep. I think I'm far too fat and lazy to push up that."

Upon close inspection I decided it was within the realms of my lethargy, so I gave it a try. On the way up to the top all I could think was "It's not wobbly, but Spiderman could have so much fun up here." It was only when I got to the top I thought "huh, no cheap thrills."

I decided on the way down it might be worth trying to see if any more fun was to be had at speed. So I let go of my wheels.

No cheap sexual thrills, but the noise was so cool... it sounded like I was going to take off. I could've pushed up and rolled down for the rest of the afternoon. Except, I do have a smigden of sanity. So I went home instead. But it was fun. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Ahem.

And as for the pushed, prodded and poked... I've been wondering if someone's stuck a sign on my back saying "'Help' me please. Even if I say no. I want you to break my wheelchair by not listening to me when I say 'don't lift that bit' because standing on the street putting my chair back together is really what I want to be doing for 5 minutes when I'm in a lot of pain and really can't deal with being upright. And I also really want you to grab my arm/the back of my chair and pull me about. You're not going to hamper my progress/endanger my safety at all."

I must learn to shout at these people and not be so bloody English. I'm too soft, and constantly at war with myself for not standing up for myself. A couple of weeks ago I had three parking spaces stolen from right in front of my face when, for what ever reason, they were ethically mine in the space of 24 hours.

I must learn to not take things lying down.

Especially when I've learnt from my excursions that there are so many more interesting positions. But I'll end here before I get onto those rumours about me having sex in my wheelchair and breaking it (which, if you've heard them, are untrue).