Friday, August 26, 2005

Enough. Already!

Scene – Bird Mansions, about 2 months ago

ME – (on the phone) Hello, is that the Extortion Access Equipment Service?

THEM – No, Extortion have gone out of business – we’re the Apparently Competent Lift Maintenance Company.

ME – Marvellous. Can you service a through floor lift and some overhead tracking?

THEM – Yes. £100 for both.

ME – does little dance of joy


THEM – (on the phone) You know how we agreed the engineer would come at 9am?

ME – (suspiciously) yeeeeeeeeessssssss?

THEM – Well he needs to come at 8 as he has to go on to several other jobs.

ME – fine, but I won’t be up, as it takes a while.

THEM – Fine


8 AM – the engineer arrives.

The Doctor, while trying to pack for Reading, and get ready for work, makes him a cup of tea. He appears to be doing a good job. The Doctor helps me get into my chair, without the overhead tracking for speed purposes, and heads off reluctantly for work, reluctantly as in general, he doesn’t like leaving me, in case Something happens.

We try not to pin down what Something might be.

I wibble briefly, and then proceed to the shower. I go to use the tracking with Scary Middle European PA and it whimpers. I go again. It whimpers again.

I swear, in a more vigorous, loud and heartfelt way than I have done for a long time, possibly in fact since the last time this happened.

I really need to go to the toilet.

I can’t get to the toilet.

I ring the Apparently Competent Lift Maintenance Service.

They ring the engineer.

He rings me.

HIM - I can be back in 2 hours. I may have over tightened the charging point.

ME – I need the toilet now.

HIM – Does your husband have a 30 mm spanner?

ME – (too angry to make obvious joke, even in head) Probably. He’s at work though, and needing to finish early so he can get to a music festival

HIM – I can be back in 2 hours

ME – bangs head on sink.

So I ring The Doctor, and he comes and fixes it. We decide that the Apparently Competent Lift Service may not get to come to Birdyville again. The Doctor comes home, fixes the tracking, helps me pee, and then goes to my office to get my portable hoist. He ends up leaving 5 hours later than planned.

Then my mother comes for lunch and suggests that its inappropriate to sell an adapted house, as no-one will want to buy it. Again. After I have explained to her that there are other wheelchair users out there, and that we really do need more space.

I may be eating a lot of chocolate tonight.

And on the off chance you’re reading this, and going to Reading, please buy any scientists you meet a pint of bitter. He truly deserves it.
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