I feel like a rant

Fellow wheelies out there.

It helps to let off steam.

It’s not just wheelchair users of course.


I personally think there are small imps in the pay of the devil who throw random objects to the floor. Just out of reach. If I am trying to do some vegetable preparation in the kitchen, the vegetable peeler will just suddenly jump from the worktop and end up right under the only bit of worktop I can use (it has no cupboards underneath and so the wheelchair fits under it). The only way of reclaiming said kitchen implement is by ducking my head under the worktop and desperately trying to reach for it - preferably without falling out of the ‘chair.

Then there’s all the bits of food that leap out of my (admittedly crappy) hands onto the floor.

And don’t get me started on bits of paper, wafting their way to the floor.

Plus grabbers just too far out of reach to use.

Not to mention tables (and worktops) that behave like coin drop arcade ‘games’ - which aren’t what I’d call fun.

Just the kind of rant I needed Steve. I’m with you all the way. B@stard gravity.

I do actually live with a lovely virtuous able bodied husband. Who would come and pick things up for me. But sigh as he does so, as if to say ‘not again, can’t you keep anything from hitting the damn floor?’ Or, ‘can’t it wait till the end of this over?’ Or, ‘I’m busy too’.

Phew, I think that helps a bit! Thanks Steve.


Yes, we’ve all been there. Some of us seem to be permanently there. Scrabbling to catch something before it rolls away from reach or onto the floor, or spills or breaks.

At the weekend I was putting together a simple salad. All ingredients were gathered in front of me as I stood near the fridge freezer. I was being observed from the floor by curious cat number 3. As I tore up the coloured, curly lettuce leaves, I found it almost theraputic. Staring out of the window at nothing in particular.

I had to pay attention as I carefully sliced the spring onions. I managed to do this and all digits remained intact. However, the cherry tomatoes on the vine, were not so obliging. As I plucked half a dozen and placed them on the chopping board, they took on a will of their own. Menacingly, they grouped together.

In unison they gathered force and lunged off the board, scattering in every direction across the floor. Cat number 3 was delighted I had decided to play with him after all. He chased them and selectively patted them into position, exactly where he wanted them. With far more precision than I could have managed I have to add.

Clinging to the edge of the work top, I endevoured to grasp some of the fugitive fruits. My elbow sent the knife crashing to the floor. Alerted by the increased volume of my swearing and the crashing noises, husband called out, “everything okay?”. He wisely didn’t enter the kitchen at the same time. I was having great difficulty resisting murderous urges. Cat number 3 looked at me and weighed up the situation through narrowed, green eyes. He thought it best to consider the fun over and sauntered out the back door, to the safety of the garden.

I sat down and composed myself before calling husband to fetch the elusive tomatoes. The final salad was sprinkled with my mix of seeds and dinner was served. Husband was left to clean up, load the dishwasher and dispose of the Gremlins…until the next time.

It’s that ‘everything okay?’ question that makes me turn murderous. I have a tendency to answer ‘what do you think?’ or ‘no it’s f’ing not okay’ (slightly more common!).


My grabber is usually, well kind of lodged behind a cupboard door when I need it! Moreover, why are elbow crutches so difficult to store/balance? Mine land me in trouble frequently, mainly because they’re so loud when they topple, so I’m now very quick to holler “it’s ok” so hubby doesn’t come running with a look of panic on his face… so it makes me giggle when he knocks them over, from their perfect position resting against my perching stool next to the bed - they’re just so damn awkward.

Good read as always

Sonia x