We did literally nothing today except travel from Terminal 5 Heathrow to Toronto, so this account will be short and sweet. Although having said that, we’ve travelled all the way to Canada which is an achievement in itself when you remember we had a wheelchair. We’ve discovered the world treats you differently when you, or a member of your party is in a wheelchair. Whilst you’re thinking about feeling smug and superior as you’re called to the front of a long queue, or given some sort of priority service ahead of the masses, Liz quickly found the world isn’t made for anyone seated. Everything in a shop is way too high up. The conversations of those passing you by float over your head, and worse of all your interactions become very passive because you’re being pushed where the “driver” wants you to go, and at the pace they dictate.
Sitting here at 3am (our time) I’m reminded the occasions I spent pushing Grandma (Mary) around in her wheelchair. At the time I felt silly for constantly asking her how she was, where we’d go next (i.e. to turn left or right), or if she wanted to explore this avenue or that first. But now I realise that was probably the right behaviour, and hopefully gave her back a little of the control she’d lost once she needed her chair. If it seems odd that I’ve noted this all here, I’m only realising these things now because Grandma wasn’t as forthcoming as Liz has been regarding her feelings. And to all of the “adult children” reading this, (for adult children read: Sophie, Matty, Daniel and Luke) please remember the above if/when you’re pushing a wheelchair any time in the future.
Once landed and we’d worked our way through security, waited an age for our luggage to be returned to us, had first discovered where the taxi rank and then waited inline, we sat exhausted but happy in our taxi speeding through the bright city lights towards the high rise apartment block where we’re staying. I sat in the passenger seat chatting to the driver, conversationally pumping him for local information. But hurrying to my defence, I’m sure Tim will agree, a bloke needs to know where you should go for breakfast when you’re in a strange place. He (the driver) was also kind enough to tell us about some local attractions, where they were and how we could see several of them for a fixed tariff if we purchased a visitors card.
Our eighth floor apartment overlooks a very architectural foot bridge over the railway and apparently towards the bay, which is unfortunately obscured by the other buildings. One of the first things Liz and Char did when they arrived was walk around the pointing at items of furniture exclaiming “built it, built that, built [x number] of them”, which made me smile. Although it’s a little cramped and compact it’s been an unexpected source of joy and hilarity due to the number of little ornamental signs scattered around the walls by the owner. Inside the front door there’s “house rules”, “Kitchen rules” in the open plan kitchenette and “bathroom rules”. Needless to say the ladies particularly appreciated all of the rules. Two smaller signs adorn the kitchen wall beside the full-height fridge and worktop. They read “Eat desert first” and “Coffee makes everything possible”. See below for photos of the larger signs.
