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Even the local hospital seems to excel in thoughtlessness towards those with mobility problems. At my first check-up, we very naughtily decide to take advantage of my dad, who has a disabled sticker prominently displayed on his windscreen. But when we park in the disabled bay outside outpatients, we discover a problem. For some unknown reason, the hospital has decided to put bollards all along the pavement next to the space, making it impossible to get the wheelchair close up to the car. Why would you do that – is there some bloke laughing himself silly in a CCTV escort shanghai booth somewhere, as injured and disabled hospital-goers try to clamber out of a car and past a three-foot concrete pillar to get into their wheelchairs? Can I expect to appear on YouTube sometime soon, starring as the injured bloke who nearly broke yet more bones as he attempted to vault a bollard using only a crutch and one hand?
It's the little things that really get to you. The door that isn't held open for me at the car park exit and the escort who is obviously so bored with wheelchair users that she speeds off round a corner while trying to show me to an appointment, leaving me lost on the corridor. It's the shortage of wide aisles at my local supermarket's tills and the tiny little strips of metal in shop doorways that I find so difficult to negotiate. ypjzdqr0805 Still, at least the walk back to the car is easier, since we aren't going to fall into the curb trap twice in one day. The route back is a little more circuitous, with our direction of travel determined as much by the state of the pavements as our final destination, but we do make it.
Not that we wanted to drive. When we planned this trip to the theatre, the tube journey was intended to be a bonus item for Harry, who loves travelling this way. Instead, we had no choice but to drive into central London, racking up extortionate parking charges and the congestion fee. The reason we had no choice, of course, is that London Underground escort shanghai takes a pretty dim view of wheelchair users. A quick perusal of the map reveals that zone one has, at best, half a dozen stations with step-free access to the trains. Out in the suburbs, the picture is even worse. Now I know the Tube is struggling with Victorian infrastructure and that big chunks of the network are miles underground, making disabled access tricky. But not all of it is like that – installing a lift in our above-ground local station would be very simple, if only someone had bothered to get round to it. I'm told that buses are much better at accommodating wheelchair users, but I haven't yet plucked up the nerve to try them. Practically speaking, the bus isn't much use for a long journey and it is also not that long since I was refused access to one with a baby's buggy because someone else already had a buggy on board. So much for public transport for all.
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