Sex: Are We Really So Different?

I read the article "Sex: some facts of life" by Kirsty Liddiard in the April issue of Disability Now with great interest. I once trained to go into social work, with the aim of working with newly disabled people. I also recently decided to change my studies from a Psychology degree (to one in English and Creative Writing) after finding that the medical model is still being taught as the only way of describing disabled people's identity. It was really encouraging to see someone examining the issue of disability and sexuality from an academic approach. With Kirsty being a trained sociologist and disabled herself, I hoped that the article would finally confront the issues disabled people face around sexuality and relationships in a rounded manner. However the piece actually seemed to blame any problems disabled people might have on disability itself and how society sees the disabled, without any broader conversation.

Now don't get me wrong, I have an experience all of the issues covered in the article, from abusive relationships through poor body image to a lack of confidence over a change in the way my body functions sexually, and fully appreciate how each one can deeply effect someone's identity and ability to form successful relationships. My own journey to the place I am at now, in a very successful and happy relationship with someone who loves me the way I love them, was a long and painful one. I also appreciate that the way I feel about my disability has had a serious impact on that journey, and is still key to my psyche and effects how I really feel about my own attractiveness. But I do not agree that these issues are something that disabled people face alone.

 

A key factor to being able to begin the task of looking for love is self confidence, and this is an area that effects everyone in our society. We only need to consider the huge growth in the number of people undergoing cosmetic surgery to understand that issues of confidence have an impact on members of society that we disabled people might see as examples of "physical perfection", and that this is not what they see when they look in the mirror. Most sociologists and psychologists agree that low confidence around body image is a growing problem throughout our society, effecting both sexes. However much we might see our issues with body image as being more valid or obvious, the truth is the emotional and psychological impact of low self confidence is the same for anyone who suffers from it.

This lack of confidence can lead on to forming unhealthy relationships, which the article also covered. But yet again the stories of every one of the people interviewed could just as easily be those of non disabled people. I spent many years of my 20's in a relationship with someone who abused me, both verbally and physically, and they went on to repeat this behaviour with their next partner, who has not disabled. I used to feel that it was my disability that caused this person to act the way they did, and this led me to stay in an unhappy relationship so long, but I now understand that is incorrect. While my lack of confidence was tied to my disability, it was the confidence issue itself that made me stay. The same goes for anyone stuck in an abusive relationship.

A deeper factor in disabled people's lack of confidence can be due to a difference in the way our sexuality functions or our inability to have sex in a "normal" manner. While I was disabled from birth, my sexual function changed when my spine collapsed at the age of 15. This led me to spend most of my adult life wrecked with self doubt about my ability to satisfy my partners sexually and to what would happen if anyone found out about what did and didn't work in the trouser department. So I spent years lying to everyone I knew and praying any ex's would keep my secret. When I met my wife, being with her gave me the confidence to "come out" about the way my body worked. When I did so in the most public manner possible (i.e. on TV) I found that nearly everyone of my male friends sidled up to me at some point and admitted that they to suffered from serious sexual dysfunction issues. The fact that Viagra is now taken as a recreational drug demonstrates how big this problem is for all of male society. I do not feel informed enough to discuss the issues faced by those people who might need assistance when having sex, but can see how that might effect not only how you feel about yourself but how you approach sex entirely. I do know that it is normally these people who are expected to use prostitutes if they ever want to have sex.

Thankfully the article did finally dispel the idea that sex with a prostitute is a solution for disabled people, especially men, who are seeking sexual experience. There are many people who campaign for legalising prostitution who use disabled people as an excuse for their argument, yet it should be obvious that it will be an empty experience whether you are disabled or not. For anyone lacking self confidence, visiting a prostitute can only reinforce these issues. No one will feel better about themselves if they feel the only way they can experience love or sex is to pay for it. But there is more than one way of paying for it. I once was in a relationship with someone who expected me to pay their rent, buy their clothes and cover all costs when we went out and seemed to think that was fine as they gave me sex. It made me feel cheap and made me mistrust prospective partners too. If I hadn't met my wife I don't know what kind of barsteward I might have become. I also know from those non disabled friends who have visited a lady of the night that they have exactly the same experience of emptiness afterwards.

We now come to the issue of fetishism. I spent most of the 90's partying on the fetish scene and will admit I found the acceptance and tolerance I was met with really liberating. I even spent a short time going out with someone who admitted they "dug the wheelchair", if you get what I mean. I left the whole world because as it became more accepted by the wider society, the ignorance of the wider society bled into the attitude this underground scene. Once people understood that a disabled person wouldn't be in a fetish club if they couldn't have sex, what ever type of sex that might be, but I eventually found myself explaining on a nightly basis that my wife and I could have sexual relationship (on a nightly basis if we wanted).

Just because I spent time in the world of fetishists, that doesn't mean I have no understanding of why so many disabled people find the whole thing offensive. No one likes the stereotype that the only people who might want to have sex with them could be called perverts. Back when I was part of the London fetish scene I filmed an item for Channel 4's "Freak Show" series that I hoped would explore the subject of disability and fetishism in a serious yet light hearted way. Instead it was edited to imply that my wife was only with me because I was disabled, so I know how hurtful this idea can be. It especially upset my wife, as she had actually said that she loved all of me and my disability was part of what made me, me. Never trust a TV producer and their editor. The crazy thing is I admit that I chatted up my now wife partly as I saw she had a scar all down her right arm. I think scars are really beautiful and the way she paraded it so openly said something great about what kind of person she was. But does that make me a devotee of her and her scar, or is it just another facet of how perfect she really is?

All of this is OK and it is only my own opinion, but does it help us find a solution to love, sex and relationships? Well I hope it does. If we as disabled people realise that all of the issues we face around the subject are the same as those faced by everyone, whatever the cause, then we should hopefully feel able to enter the world of love on a more level playing field. Yes we do have our own issues to face, but the way they effect us emotionally is not so different to the way the rest of society's issues effect them. All I know for sure is many of my non disabled friends are desperately looking for the same thing we are all chasing, a happy and loving relationship and they wouldn't care if that was with someone who disabled or not. At the root of this whole subject is the fact that self doubt is part of the human condition and how we cope with it makes us who we are. So let's stop seeing disability as a barrier to love, and instead embrace it as part of what will make us a real catch.

Chairman Scarlet Speaks...

Recently I was challenged by someone claiming "You're Mik Scarlet!". They held their mobile phone up and showed me a photograph of little old me that was taken as part of the Re-Framing Disability exhibition. Now it's not my favourite photo, but before I had the chance to say anything my challenger laughed "It doesn't look like you do in real life", and at that they walked off. Apart from being a reminder of what it is like to be known by the public, it also made me want to explain the project and my photograph in it (that's it below).

The project involved a large group of disabled people examining historic images of disability held in the archive of the Royal College of Physicians, giving our thoughts on them and how they portrayed disabled people and then to have our photograph taken to be added to the archive. From the beginning it became clear that disabled people have always been around and have been of interest to the medical profession, even if they had no real idea of what caused the impairments of the people featured. What was amazing to learn was how much these disabled people of the past had found ways of creating successful careers. Many of them seemed to follow the same path as someone like myself and went into showbiz. Some even performed for royalty and became stars. The strangest thing was looking at the images before we were given any information and as we gave our thoughts it became clear that much of what we said was coloured by our own experience rather than historic knowledge. When we were told who these people were and what they had achieved, I think most of us were stunned to learn that disabled people had many more opportunities way back when than they do now.

When it came time for my photograph to be taken, I chatted with the photographer and got ready. The plan was to create an image that was equally hard to read, and that without any information might cause anyone looking at the picture in the future would read it as wrongly as we had with the images from the past. Now I have always secretly dreamed of being a world dictator, and so decided to play this role in my photo. I think we succeeded. If you compare it to the promotional poster for the forth coming film The Dictator the thinking behind my image becomes clear.

So I hope that in a couple of hundred years, if another project is run to examine the RCP archive then everyone involved will look at my picture and possibly wonder if there had ever been a disabled dictator with peroxide hair? Who knows, maybe one day there will...

(This says more about what goes on in my head than anything else I feel, but hey I am the Great Leader so what I says goes!)

For more of the images and the videos filmed of our discussions on the imagery visit Re-Framing Disability

"Spinal Injury - The Cure That Wasn't A Cure" or "Dude, Where's My Feet Gone?"

Back in 2003 I had a series of surgeries to repair my damaged spine, which had been broken for a second time after a car accident four years earlier. As an unforeseen side effect of this surgery, where I had one of vertebrae replaced with a titanium ring and my spine reinforced with two long titanium rods, I regained much of my sensation and some of my motor function. Everyone was so blown away by this that they all got very excited about the possibility of me getting back up on my legs again. Before I could even begin to undergo the years of physiotherapy and the commitment that required, I needed to have at least two major surgeries to fix problems with my bones that have arisen from spending twenty five years as a full time wheelchair user. This was a major decision for me and when I chatted with a BBC mate of mine about it, a TV documentary followed. I must admit that I wasn't really happy with the programme, mainly as they insisted on finding a load of people who desperately wanted to walk again in the name of balance, but Can Walk, Won't Walk (as the Beeb decided it should be called) did raise some interesting issues. I did the usual publicity, appearing on Radio 4's You and Yours, had an article in the Mail on Sunday and chatted on Breakfast TV about the whole escapade. Mainly as just about everyone out there was amazed that I decided to stick in the wheelchair.

But that story is old hat and not what I wanted to write about here. This is actually a follow up to the miracle cure story that everyone seemed so fascinated by. You see up until 2010-ish I did have nearly full sensation and tons of new motor function but then I slowly noticed that things had started to change. It started with issues around how my body felt. One day I would feel tall, and everything seemed normal, the next one of my legs felt really long while the other felt tiny. Then things got weirder. My right leg lost the sensation from my knee to my foot, but I could still feel my little foot which ended up feeling like it was floating somewhere below me. I also started to feel like my right side was shrinking, and this caused me to feel like I was twisting into an imaginary black hole that was sitting just off my right buttock. Trust me, if it's hard to imagine that because it is just as hard to describe. It was just the strangest feeling and this is the best description I can manage.

It had already taken me years to get used to the way my body felt after the sensation came back, mainly as I was much taller than my brain expected. Over the years of paralysis my mind had created a body map that had filled in the numb empty bits, but had imagined me to be at least six inches shorter than I actually was. So when the feeling came back, I was suddenly miles bigger than my mind's body map was expecting. It led to me loosing coordination for a while, and caused several accidents with knocking stuff over or crashing my wheelchair. My poor wife's toes also bore the brunt. But slowly I got used to being six foot three, and that as fine. Almost as soon as I felt OK in my skin, the changes started to happen.

Recently I have been ill with an infection, and this was treated with strong antibiotics. Not only did these treat the original problem of infection but it had an effect on the sensation/motor function changes, which came back with a vengeance while I was being treated but are slowly disappearing now. This has allowed me to understand what has been going on. In the past, before the most recent surgery on my spine, most of my nerves were trapped in scar tissue and not damaged or severed. This caused them not to work as if they had been more seriously damaged, but once released they came back. However, any surgery causes scar tissue to form, and it is obvious that some has reformed around some of my nerves causing the recent changes in what works and what doesn't. As scar tissue can become inflamed if you get a cold or flu, or an infection like I have been fighting for a while now (obviously longer than anyone knew), and this will cause the way those nerves work to change yet again. So if you combine the fact that scar tissue grows and forms over a long period and that recently it has been effected by other forces, the reason why the way my body works has changed from day to day, or even from hour to hour becomes clear.

So I am now in the position of not really knowing how I will be left in the future. I may find that things go back to the way they were in before 2010, or they may go back to pre-2003 or end up somewhere in between. I shall just have to wait and see. It's like Christmas morning, not knowing what presents you'll have. All I do know is that regaining so much sensation has not been the fantastic thing everyone else imagines it to be. I had got used to the body I had before 2003, and found learning to cope with full sensation very difficult. Let me explain why...

I'll use the example of a bot bath, as I think that gives the best explanation. Anyone who can feel normally and who can walk will put a tentative foot into a bath and if it too hot they will pull it out quick time. I have not been able to that since I was fifteen years old. But with my feelings working better I can feel if the bath is burning me, but have no more ability to jump out of the bath. Do you see? I can feel the burn but can't avoid it... unless I do the elbow test that I have had to do since going in the chair. The same goes for crashing into things in my chair. My poor feet look like someone has smashed them with a hammer sometimes, as I do tend to crash into doors and walls on occasion and my tootsies bare the brunt. But before I couldn't feel them. Now I can, but can't do anything to avoid the accident... other than be a better driver.

On top of the ability to feel pain without the ability to react to the cause, I also have problems with normal sensations that I had forgotten. Things like socks, that even now are so annoying to me that I spend all day trying to ignore the way they feel. I also keep getting woken up by the sheets laying on my legs, and if I sun bathe the wind through my toes is just SOOO freaky. Of course I was getting used to all of this but now these new sensations are coming and going so I have a new set of freakiness to get used to.

Now I thought I should explain why I wanted to put all of this online. Well, firstly I wanted to put something out there that follows up on the story of the "miracle cure" that the press jumped on and then forgot once I chose to stay in a wheelchair (oh boy they couldn't work that out, but were very cross as that's not a good story - Man Happy as Cripple is not the headline they wanted). But I also wanted there to be something online that might be found either by someone going through a spinal injury or by someone in the medical profession that explained how fluid the outcome of nerve damage can be. Even before my last operation, what worked and what didn't had changed. Bits slowly came back for years after I came out of hospital as a paraplegic, and I found my right hip returned totally over ten years after my first injury in 1981. Nerves are slippery little buggers, and no one really knows if they are totally knackered or dormant and in shock. If they are in shock they might come back in a week, a month, a year, two years, five years, ten years or... never. You just don't know.

That's why I am so glad I made the decision I did around not even trying to walk again. Imagine how crappy I would have felt if I had undergone two more major operations and spent years in physio, fighting to get up on my legs, only to find that I then lost the ability to do it all thanks to new scar tissue forming. All I do know is that whatever the outcome of a spinal injury, and whatever might come back as the years go by, the best reaction is that you embrace it, and try to learn to love it. If stuff does come back, it's gravy. If the stuff that came back goes away again, you've lost nothing. Personally I am actually happy that things seem to going back to the way they were pre-2003. I have never really got used to having full sensation without full function, and as things disappear I do not find myself mourning for what is going. Instead I aim to get on with whatever my body does in the future with a smile.

Now that's news headline that you will never see... Cured Cripple Happy That Cure Goes Away! Tee hee.

Reasons to get yourself to this show!

I have just got back from attending the fantastic Graeae musical Reasons To Be Cheerful, and had a great night. It's a great show and I can't recommend it too highly. In fact I wish I could be in it, although trying to remember all of Ian Dury's lyrics might be a bit beyond me! I have already written a few reviews of the show, so I will just say "Get yourself to this show ASAP!" They are playing at the Hackney Empire until Sunday and then move on to the Nottingham Playhouse from the 3rd to the 7th.

Do yourself a favour, it's one not to miss.

Travelogue 2 - Penzance, Cornwall

As promised, here is piece about my recent trip to Penzance down in Cornwall. You would never believe it from the photos, but Diane and I made our most recent visit in February. During the long drive, and at over five hours it can be a bit of an endurance test, we both noticed that as we got nearer to our destination spring had sprung much sooner in the South West. Typically it rained for the entire drive down there, but the trees had green shoots on them and the already green grass at the road side was filled with Daffodils. However bad the drive can be, letting the train take the strain can be worse. Last time we tried it it took over seven hours, and the disabled toilet was broken. Not the most fun I have had ever had. But I did not plan to make this an article on my dislike of public transport.

It is funny, but as we got closer to our destination we both started to feel more relaxed. We began visiting this part of the world when Diane's Mother and Step Father moved there. During our first visit I fell so in love with the place that I stated talking about moving there, causing much panic for my city girl wife. But I do still love the place. It's beautiful and rugged, with a relaxed attitude towards life. There is also a fantastic artistic and creative community. On top of that, property is much cheaper that here in London, but then I suppose there aren't many places where it's more expensive. Maybe living on the moon. Of course it's more the travel costs involved with commuting when you live on the moon than the cost of the moon base. So as our journey ended and St. Michael's Mount came into view the journey was all but forgotten, other than my very numb bum.

As we booked into our hotel, The Queens on the sea front, it kind of felt like coming home. It exudes a feeling of warm comfort that wraps around you like a blanket. It's a typical seaside hotel built during the Victorian expansion of the railways, and has loads of original historic features. The staff are fantastic. Really friendly and helpful, and a stay there does kind of feel like you are staying with family. Just family who have to do there best to make your stay pleasurable. So nothing like family really, but you get the gist.

Our room was lovely. We always request a sea view, as it is a must when staying here. Every time we've stayed our room has been large, very clean and a real joy to come back to. This time our room was even bigger than normal, with a gorgeous Art Nouveau brass fire place and a massive comfortable bed. The bathroom was large too, and I could easily get round our accommodation in my rather large wheelchair. I do think I should mention that none of the rooms have been fully adapted for wheelchairs. There are no handrails, and the rooms have baths and not wheel in showers, but I personally prefer that. I have always found that retro fitting older hotels for wheelchair access tends to be a hit and miss process and there is nothing worse that badly considered adaptations. Who needs handrails at the wrong height that are fitted badly, or sinks that are too low for anyone to use without getting their feet wet? I understand that this means some disabled people would find the Queens a little difficult, but I would still advise you to give it a try. I also know that there are other hotels nearby that do have full access.

One of the key benefits to having a sea view is waking up in the morning with the sun shining into the room, which really sets you up for the day. We ordered breakfast in our room on the first morning of our stay, which is a bit of ritual. Sitting there, scoffing toast, croissant and muesli while drinking fresh coffee with the beautiful vista outside your window is just sublime. Even in February, the blazing sun made our room so hot we needed to open the window and it's was warm outside! As soon as we had stuffed ourselves, we got ready to go for a walk along the promenade outside the hotel. It's one of the key reasons why Penzance suits us. It has a long and very flat promenade, that run from Mousehole, a little fishing village next to Penzance, all the way to the town centre. This is pretty rare in Cornwall. We have visited other places on our trips and they tend to mould themselves to fit the rugged contours of this area. Beautiful but not exactly wheelchair friendly. Penzance itself is still pretty hilly, but they are at least manageable. We once went to St. Ives, but found we couldn't get out of the car. This artistic tourist trap is built on the side of cliff, and so the roads are so steep that unless you are lucky enough to be able to park in the small number of blue badge bays on the sea front, you can forget it if you use a wheelchair like me. It actually felt like something from a comedy show, as we sat parked at an angle that could have been used to launch us into space trying to work out how we get the chair out of the car, and more importantly how we would ever get back into it. Cutting our visit short, we made our excuses and left driving, back to the safety of Penzance.

Diane and I have decided not go travelling this stay, instead we wanted to unwind and just enjoy Penzance. As well as seeing the relatives, of course. There is something that lifts the soul about a walk by the sea, with the bracing wind blowing through your hair on a gorgeous sunny early spring day. If you combine this with amazing views out to sea, and the fact that from Penzance you can see that arc of land that runs from Lizard Point to past Mousehole (which is truly beautiful and is such a large area that you can watch the weather rolling in off the sea) and I must admit I started dreaming of moving down there all over again. After wondering the sea front, we made a left turn next to hotel and fought our way up the hill. One thing for sure, if we did ever move there I would get even bigger muscles very quickly. Either that or a jet powered wheelchair. Now Penzance isn't all wine and roses for us wheelies. As well as some of the steep hills, the pavements are a little lumpy, and not all the shops are accessible. But it is pretty good, for a town with so many historic buildings. I personally found my campaigning head getting all passionate but I have enough battles in my home town to take on the access issues of a place that far away. If any locals want some advice, drop me a line.

Diane really wanted to visit a shop she loves, Mash, that does amazing women's clothes. After our obligatory shopping, we wandered the high street, stopped for a coffee and then used the handy lift in the Wharfside Sopping Centre that leads back down the promenade. Nice. Once back in our room, we relaxed and got ready to go for dinner with Diane's Mum and Step Dad. We met in the bar and then went onto Baba Indian Resturant just down the road from the hotel. All I can say is yummy. Just the perfect mix of traditional Indian restaurant feel with up to date modern cooking. We haven't been there before but it will now become a requisite of future trips. Always the way, find a great Indian restaurant that is a five hour motorway drive away from where you live. After a delicious meal, we went back to our room. Waking from a great night's sleep, which is amazing for me who finds sleep a real chore, we were full of beans and very relaxed. We went down for breakfast and then got ready for the drive home. One last wander down the seafront and we hit the road. It is always the low point of a trip to Penzance, leaving. We promised ourselves that next time we stay it would be for longer.

So if you've never been, I would definitely advise a visit to Penzance. If you want to just unwind it is perfect, but there are also loads of activities to do down there to. While we packed someone was waterski-ing in the bay for instance. Whatever you fancy, Penzance is great place and it is also a fantastic base to see the rest of this beautiful part of the world. We love it, and just writing this has made start thinking of booking another trip there soon.

Sill Ill

What a crazy month March has turned out to be. I had planned to write my second travelogue, about a recent weekend away in Penzance, but I will save that for later. Instead I wanted to write something about why March has not been a high point of 2012 for me so far. Last week I attended a conference for Disabled Workers up in Manchester, and gave a speech about my experiences in the media. I think it went over well, and it was great to meet so many committed and passionate disabled people, all keen to help each other ensure that the work place is a friendly and accessible place for all. While I was there I started feeling a bit unwell, and when I got back home this continued. By the start of this week I felt very, very unwell and went off to visit my GP.

It transpires I have a serious infection. Now over the past few years I have been treated for a pressure sore, which it turns out was actually this infection in it's early stages, so I think you can all guess where my infection is. Yes I have a gammy bum. Nice. I was given antibiotics and told to rest. By Wednesday this week I was feeling even worse and so I went off the the local A&E. The whole experience really showed how much the medical profession still see disability through the medical model. Obvious I suppose, but it does lead to some serious mistakes. I mean my GP has been treating me for a pressure sore for ages, as wheelchair users get pressure sores, and didn't even think that it might be something totally unrelated to my disability that could be easily cured by some pills. At the A&E I found myself trying to explain to a series of doctors that I could feel parts of a lower regions, I had full use of my bladder and bowl and that my condition was a very rare. I am one a very small group of people to have survived the cancer I had as a baby, and the treatment I had led to side effects that effected even fewer people. Like just me. So all of their experience of wheelchair users, and paraplegia is useless when dealing with me. Of course try to make doctors understand this is next to impossible. How can a patient know more about medicine than they do?

But before I go off down the road of another rant about doctors and disability, I must stop myself. For this is not what I wanted this blog to be about. Instead I wanted to talk about the way I am feeling while I lay in bed, pumped full of super strong antibiotics watching day time TV. All this feeling ill, being unable to do anything while all your plans unravel took me back to how I felt as a teenager when my back collapsed. I spent nine months in hospital, three of them in a terminal ward (as the doctors were sure my cancer had returned and I would soon be checking out - I hope this goes some way to explaining my deep mistrust of the medical profession, but I assure there are many more mistakes and misdiagnoses to go towards that explanation). While in this ward of death almost everyone of my fellow ward mates died, some in very unpleasant circumstances. Not the kind of thing a teenage boy normally has to deal with, especially as I was sure I would be joining them in the morgue fairly soon. While I laid there waiting to meet the grim reaper, I listed all the things I would never do. Dye my hair, go to a night club, and of course.... have sex. So when I was told not to worry, and I only had a knackered spine that would stop my walking and disco dancing for ever, I was very.... very relieved.

I then promised myself to live life as if every day was my last. And boy did I? I have had the kind of life that most non disabled people could only dream of, and I have built some superb memories to look back on next time I am expecting a visitor from Mr Reaper. But recently I have found myself worrying about stuff, and trying to create a secure future for me and my lovely wife. You know, grown up stuff that can suck the joy out of life in a major way. If you add that to all the worry that this crazy government and it's even crazier policies on disability have brought to bare on most disabled people's lives and I have really lost that joy for life. But as I lay in bed, either boiling hot or freezing cold as my body fights this damned infection, I find myself remembering the goal I had in my teens. Sod the Tories and their drive to force disabled people to either swim or sink, screaming, and the fact the place where I live seems to get a little less accessible every time I go out. However much the world seems to view disabled people as a drain on societies coffers, who unreasonably demand equal access to the world around us even if it means altering historic buildings (sorry but I am currently in a battle with a Camden preservation body about ensuring wheelchair access to the local canal and "heritage features" have become dirty words in my house), life is too short for all this arse.

Instead I must seize the day, and enjoy my time on this planet. Of course that doesn't mean I shouldn't fight for a better world. Just make sure I enjoy the fight, and really enjoy the successes. I know that I have won some serious fights here in Camden over access and am now taking this experiences to the wider country. But I must remember to enjoy the process and the outcome. I must also remember not to let the bastards grind me down. If I get turned away from a building for being a fire hazard I must not let it ruin my day... or night. Instead I must just go elsewhere, have a great time... and then enjoy suing the people that turned me away. Whatever the issue or barrier, I must stop seeing them as a reason to get down. No they are a joyous thing, something to fight against and a fight to win. And if I don't win, then sod them yet again. Not only will I not be going there again, but neither will my mates and family, and I'll write a stinking article about them for this blog.

I think it is the one thing that can give us disabled people a clearer view on life. Once you've tasted how precious life is, the drive to enjoy becomes stronger. Yes it can also make the injustices we face cut deeper, but maybe it will drive us all shout louder against those injustices. All I know is that now I understand that once I am well again I plan to try to enjoy every minute of my life, whatever is thrown at me. So come on life, give it your best shot.

PS. My wife has just quipped that her pain in the arse now has a pain in the arse. That's why I love her.

Travelogue 1 - Derby

At the start of 2012 I promised myself that I would try to see more of the great country I live in. It seems that February really kicked started this goal, with a series of trips all over the UK in my diary.

The first was a visit to Derby to write an article for Disability Now magazine on the photographer Rei Bennett's Beauty from Damage project, which will be in the next issue of DN. I have been to Derby a few times in the past but as a singer with various bands, as it is a great place for live music. The only problem with seeing anywhere when you're touring is that you don't get to see it. You arrive, sound check, have something to eat, do the show and retire to a hotel for drinks and passing out. The next morning you're back on the road with a place name ticked off your tour itinerary, but with no actual knowledge of what that place is like. So I wanted to experience what Derby had to offer, and with this in mind I booked a hotel room for my wife and I the night before the interview.

We stayed at the Cathedral Quarter Hotel in St. Mary's Gate, which was a great choice. It's a really nice high quality hotel, that came at a very reasonable price. From the minute we arrived outside it was obvious that the Cathedral Quarter was going to be accessible too. While it is an old building, the Old County Offices, it's wheelchair accessible through out. Our room was nice too. Not massive, but superb for the price paid and very swish. The bathroom was very accessible too, with a walk in shower and handrails galore. The whole hotel was a superb combination of designer chic and historic features, including stained glass windows on the sweeping stair case in the lobby. The staff were really helpful and very friendly.

In fact everyone we met in the city were friendly and chatty. So much so that it made the whole visit even more enjoyable. It's funny how your experience of a place can be so heavily influenced by it's people, but it only becomes clear when you visit somewhere where everyone is so nice. But not only has Derby got great people, it's also a really great place.

At this point I must mention the thing about Derby that really impressed both me and my wife... just how accessible for disabled people it is. In fact it is so accessible that I would say that Derby should be a shinning example to other towns and cities. In the past I have always given the example of Barcelona as proof that a anywhere can be made accessible, but Derby equally proves it and is here in the UK. Derby really is that good. It starts with the pavements, with large areas being pedestrianised. I know that many people find the idea of shared spaces frightening, but Derby demonstrates that these fears are unfounded. The changes from pavement to road area are marked with noticeably different coloured paving, and have a small dip to make sure people with visual impairments are safe, while ensuring a smooth surface for us wheelie types. Pretty much all the shops had ramped access, and everywhere had lifts and toilets. They had even made most of the cobbled areas accessible by smoothing off the surfaces of each cobblestone. Anyone who uses a wheelchair knows how truly evil cobbles are, but Derby has cracked the whole issue. Keeping the historic nature of the cobbled areas while making them usable for all people. If you are disabled, a trip to Derby is a must if only to witness how accessible it is.

When you are a wheelchair user like me, how accessible a place is can really effect how you experience what is on offer when you visit. I have lost count of the number of holidays and trips out have been ruined by crap access. With Derby being so accessible it became clear that our one night was not going to be enough. We arrived early, as I am a sticker for time keeping, and after we unpacked in our room, we went out for a walk around. I love shopping, and in Derby I could feed my addiction very nicely. We did pop into the Westfield shopping centre briefly, but much preferred the myriad of shops outside. Something that is noticeable about Derby is how many of the shops inside the centre are repeated outside. Thus saving shopping centre phobics, like my poor wife, from the horror of being stuck in the unnatural environment of Westfield and the like. On top of the usual high street fair, Derby has loads of little boutiques selling high quality items. From local designers to designer labels there's something for everyone. I found some great jewellery shops too. Hmm, that's good shopping.

While I love to shop, Diane loves to stop for a coffee and watch the world go by. Derby has many lovely coffee shops and restaurants, catering for all tastes. Top quality gourmet food, local produce and high street chains are all there. We tried out a couple of little coffee places, a cheese and bread place just next to the hotel and Pizza Express. All yummy with great food and really great staff.

Even if you don't fancy shopping and eating (are you still alive?), you can easily enjoy just wandering around the city. Being an architecture buff, I found the many architectural styles of Derby fascinating. It has spans the most of industrial history, from Georgian and Victorian grandeur through 30's and 60's modernism to recent new developments. Definitely visit Waterstones. It's a glorious old building with loads of original features, with an amazing 30's building opposite, currently housing spa. In most of the centre of the city I got to combine my love of shopping with sight seeing lovely buildings, especially in the side streets off St Peter's Street. Check out Pictures of Derby to see what a treasure chest of buildings the city is. I'd also advise a walk down by the river. Romantic and beautiful.

If you haven't been, I would advise you give Derby a try. I fell in love with the city after one day and know I want to go back, soon. I know it has a thriving arts scene for one thing, and I want to taste some of the creative offerings Derby has to offer, as well as it's other delights.