Captain Wheels: A Short Story.

The pub door swung open and a tall, muscular woman entered and looked around the room. Finally her eyes settled on the man she wished to speak to, perched precariously on a bar stool with his wheelchair directly to his right. She marched across the room to him and tapped him lightly on the shoulder causing him to swivel round.

“Captain Wheels?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied, “want to take a selfie?”

“No. Actually I’d like to speak with you in relative privacy, perhaps in one of those booths?” she pointed to the opposite wall which was lined with tall, secluded booths.

“Oh OK, sure. Give me a minute.” Captain Wheels shifted into his wheelchair, stretched up for the half-drunk pint still on the bar and followed the woman across the room to the booth in the far corner. He manoeuvred himself from his wheelchair, which couldn’t fit in the booth, onto one of the high-backed, cushioned seats.

“My name is Nicola Rage and I’m recruiting people with special abilities to form a team,” Nicola began, “In searching the newspapers for reports of such people I came across several articles discussing your activities, and I decided that you might be exactly what I’m searching for.”

Captain Wheels raised one eyebrow slightly, “And what exactly is this team for?”

“Government intelligence services have found evidence of a criminal organisation that is in ownership of multiple significant threats that have the potential to destroy entire cities. What these threats are is as yet unknown but when those threats present themselves, as appears to be inevitable, we need someone to protect us.”

“And that’s me?”

“Potentially as part of a team of like-minded individuals,” Nicola said calmly, “but first I need to talk to you to discuss what exactly these abilities are without the exaggeration of excitable journalists.” She flipped open a notepad on which were scrawled a handful of questions and before Captain Wheels had the chance to say anything else, she began questioning him.

“How did you obtain your powers?”

“Well personally I don’t especially like recounting that experience-“ Captain Wheels began but was interrupted by Nicola.

“Captain, I realise that asking someone how they obtained their special abilities is a sensitive question but I am not asking this to satisfy my own personal curiosity. I need to hear it from you.”

“7 years ago doctors found a tumour in my brain. A cancerous one. The operation to remove it went wrong, severely limiting my mobility and putting me in a wheelchair, but while I lost control of my own body I gained the ability to control other physical objects. I can move things with my mind, get things to levitate very briefly, and can even influence the actions of those around me to some extent.”

“So you’re telekinetic?” Nicola asked in a matter-of-fact voice, almost sounding bored.

“Yeah, I guess so,” came Captain Wheels’ reply.

“And how do you use these powers?”

“Probably my most frequent job is to move extremely heavy objects if someone is trapped say in a building fire or a collapsed building following an earthquake. I’ve also been able to prevent car accidents and the like and I can move objects to block and trap criminals. allowing them to be caught by the police before they cause any more harm,” Captain Wheels said.

“So you could perhaps trap terrorists allowing them to be apprehended, or move a bomb to a safe distance away from inhabited buildings and businesses. And you could help anyone stuck within the wreckage if we weren’t fast enough,” Nicola proceeded.

“Yes.”

“Could you get them to change their minds about their intentions?”

“It’s possible but not certain, I’m afraid. I may be able to slow them down by making them question their actions, but once an idea is imprinted firmly in someone’s mind I can do very little to change it,” Captain Wheels explained.

Nicola Rage sat back against her seat in thought before continuing.

“Would you be willing to be a member of an elite team, all of whom have their own special abilities, to help reduce the threat to our society on an international scale?” she asked.

“If my powers are useful to you then yes, absolutely,” Captain Wheels said with sincerity.

“Then welcome to the Protection Squad.”

***

Captain Wheels slowly seated himself in his new wheelchair. Instead of the cold, grey lump of metal he was used to this was warm and comfortable, more like an armchair on wheels. Like his old wheelchair it was powered but here the similarities stopped. The batteries had an extra-long life and could be charged using solar power as well as the charger. The control panel was cluttered with a myriad of buttons which Nicola guided him through.

“The top one is for stealth mode. It silences the motors and dims the lights on the control panel, activates the chameleon panels which help you blend into the background just like the ones on your uniform, and switches off the horn so you have no chance of alerting someone to your presence accidentally.

“That one is for the jet pack which will help you levitate your own wheelchair at great heights for longer so you can focus your powers elsewhere. This one here is for the parachute should something go wrong.

“This one is for the gun incorporated into your left arm rest, and will reload automatically from the magazine of bullets under the seat. We’ve added special receptors that can enhance the effects of your telekinesis, allowing you to aim the gun hands-free.

“Obviously all of these things take some power from the battery so should be used carefully, but with these batteries I can’t imagine you’ll have to worry about it too much.”

“Wow,” Captain Wheels said slowly, “just wow.”

Nicola smiled, “I had an inkling that you might like it. Are you ready to meet the other team members?”

Captain Wheels nodded and followed her into the next room. In the centre of the room was an oval-shaped mahogany table with three men and two women in the same uniform already seated around it, as if they were attending the worlds’ most unusual board meeting. Captain Wheels manoeuvred into the space left for him at the table while Nicola took her seat at the end of the table.

“Welcome, all of you,” she said, “you were hand-picked because of your special abilities and together you are the Protection Squad. I advise that you get to know each other quickly; the latest government intelligence suggests that the first threat is imminent and we will need you to defend us. Now if you will excuse me I have a strategy meeting with my superiors to attend, after which you may well be called upon.” She stood up and left.

There was a short, awkward pause before the darker-haired woman introduced herself as Dominique, her power being the ability to shape-shift. The second woman, known only as the Blood Assassin, briefly described the genetic and surgical enhancements she had been subjected to against her will that had turned her into a super-warrior. Doctor Raven described himself as a super-intelligent telepath and Jerry Lightning introduced his ability to run faster than the speed of sound. Finally there was Thoron, affectionately nicknamed for his strength and odd resemblance to the Nordic God of thunder. The last person to introduce himself was Captain Wheels.

“I’m Dave Heyton, otherwise known as Captain Wheels,” he said as all eyes turned to face him, “and I’m telekinetic. My wheelchair also has special stealth settings and a jet pack.”

“So what are you without the wheelchair?” Thoron scoffed.

“A telekinetic, cancer-surviving badass,” Captain Wheels kept a straight face as he said this, while Dominique struggled to supress her smile. Before anything else could be said the door opened and Nicola Rage entered.

“We have a situation,” she said.

***

Tactics were discussed in the helicopter while they headed to their destination, an allegedly disused block of offices in the financial district of London. It had been reported that a gas-emitting bomb was to be hidden there by the criminal organisation shortly before rush hour when it would be set off, releasing poisonous gases that would result in horrific widespread disease, essentially turning people into mindless zombies.

“This weapon is designed to cause mass panic on a national scale as much as it is to harm people,” Nicola Rage said, “if it goes off not only will we have a horrific disease to manage, but the country will be in uproar. The mistrust of governmental departments is bad enough as it is; something like this would push the country into disrepair and self-destruction. And that means that someone new can barge in and take control, because in that situation the public simply want a leader to follow and they won’t give a damn who that will be.

“You will be dropped off here,” Nicola pointed to a location on the map, “and will make your way through this series of back alleys to the office block in question. Raven; we want you on the top floor of the building providing us with information as to the whereabouts of the criminals in the office. Dominique; follow the gang through the building by blending into the environment, providing us with further intel by thinking it for Doctor Raven, and joining in the fighting when we apprehend the gang. Assassin and Thoron; using the intel provided we will guide you through the building until the right moment when you will start your attack. Lightning and Wheels; you will use your speed and levitation powers in combination to quickly transport the bomb to our bomb-disposal team in their secret base in the most remote part of the Scottish highlands. Understood?”

Everyone nodded and soon the helipad where they were to land came into view. Instead of waiting for the lift to arrive to carry him down to ground level, which was taking far too long, Captain Wheels decided to use the jet-pack and go down the stairs, which proved trickier to control than he had anticipated. Quite how the scorch-marks left behind him would be explained to the cleaning staff he didn’t know.

Once they were on the street they moved swiftly through the back alleys until they arrived at the office block. As expected there was no evidence of activity yet, so they slipped into the building unnoticed. Doctor Raven checked with his telepathic powers that the building was indeed empty and then set off for the top floor. Dominique disguised herself as a small spider spinning a web in the corner, ready to follow the criminals when they arrived. The rest tucked themselves in the dark underneath the stairs, activated their chameleon suits, and waited for further instructions to be fed to them through their ear pieces.

A short later their earpieces crackled into life and Nicola Rage’s disembodied voice confirmed sighting of the gang headed towards the office disguised as delivery men, driving an unmarked white van. About two minutes after this Doctor Raven said he could detect ten people, all men, approaching in a white van. While nine of the men were highly anxious that some sort of suspicious activity was going on, only one seemed to actually know what was being delivered. Doctor Raven tracked the men as they entered the building; two stayed on the ground floor, two outside the first floor, and two more stayed outside the door into the second floor while the remaining four entered the offices. Dominique was completely unnoticed as she scuttled into the office underneath the closed door.

At this point Blood Assassin crept out from beneath the stairs and stealthily made her way towards the two men in the reception area. Silently, she knocked them both unconscious simultaneously and gently placed their bodies on the floor. When she returned she clambered onto Lightnings’ back and in a flash she was up the stairs, having knocked out both sets of guards. Captain Wheels and Thoron could now make their way up to the second floor, where they grouped together.

Doctor Raven said that the package containing the bomb had been put down, and that the three men who didn’t know what was in it were making their way back towards the stair well. Everyone pressed themselves back against the wall on each side of the door, something Captain Wheels found particularly difficult, blending into the dull grey walls almost perfectly. The three men left the second floor in silence, and once the door had closed behind them Blood Assassin knocked them all unconscious, propping them up against the wall.

As they were about to enter the office to apprehend the one remaining man, Nicola Rage reported that a helicopter was progressing towards them. Once Doctor Raven found the relevant vehicle he said that there were four men in the helicopter, all in the know. They were planning to kill all the other men involved in the operation, acting as security until the bomb went off, when they would succumb to the disease just like the man already in the building. Thinking quickly Nicola ordered them to enter the room and apprehend the one man there, telling Lightning and Captain Wheels to remove the bomb while only one man was present, leaving the rest to fight the approaching criminals.

Captain Wheels deactivated stealth mode and violently kicked the door open, which promptly swung back and slammed his legs. Thoron leant across him and pushed the door so hard the hinges snapped. Dominque transformed into her human form, blocking the doors on the other side of the room. The criminal screamed that he was under attack into his own walkie-talkie before firing his gun at his attackers. Only two bullets had been fired before Blood Assassin had disarmed him, both of which missed their target, at which point Captain Wheels levitated the bomb towards himself. Thoron kept the enemy in place while the two women headed up the building to deal with the helicopter that had just landed, and Captain Wheels was propelled out of the building at super speed by Lightning.

Once outside Captain Wheels activated his jet pack, flying close to the buildings so that Lightning could run along them, continuing to push the wheelchair at speed. Within seconds they were out of the city, running along buildings and hilltops, flying in between, and in only a couple of minutes they were approaching the bomb disposal unit. Travelling at such a speed through the cold, wet Scottish highlands was not the most enjoyable experience nor was it good for slick hair styles, but both men were far more concerned with the bomb than they were about their own discomfort. It was only as they landed, soaked to the skin, that they even noticed just how cold they were. The bomb disposal team took the bomb from them as soon as they had landed and almost immediately Captain Wheels and Lightning embarked on the return trip.

As they arrived at the office block they were informed by Doctor Raven that the fighting was already over. Dominque and Blood Assassin had rapidly disarmed the men from the helicopter and he himself had hacked into the still-working security system to lock the doors of the room they were in once the women had escaped. A police squad were on their way to pick up all the men, and in the meantime the Protection Squad were to wait on the roof of the building for further orders, bar Thoron who was still occupied detaining the apparent mastermind behind the scheme.

From the roof the Protection Squad had a reasonable view of the police arriving in vans and dragging out the unconscious men, before finally putting the rest of the men into high-security vans with the aid of Thoron. As this progressed a crowd gathered and soon extra police had to be called in for crowd control. Soon enough the police were escorting their prisoners to the nearest station and the Protection Squad worked their way down the building to meet the enthusiastic people outside, who were particularly interested in Captain Wheels’ chair. Camera’s flashed and journalist yelled questions at the top of their lungs, all trying to find out what exactly had happened. Nicola Rage reminded them not to say a word as she sent a van to pick them up.

The following morning all of the newspapers headlines were as predictable as a B-movie science fiction film; all of them were desperate to know just who the Protection Squad were. Captain Wheels smiled at the photograph plastered across every front page; only the very top of his head could be seen as he sat beside his standing compatriots. He didn’t have long to relax however, before Nicola Rage called upon him again.

London Calling: Part 3.

After eating we set off for a pub that is pretty famous among gamers; the Loading Bar. Various pinball machines lined the wall opposite the entrance and there were other classic arcade games scattered around the room. On the wall facing the bar was a TV linked to a PlayStation 4 and there was another corner stacked high with various board games. Even the cocktails had game-themed names such as Skyrum. We had arranged to meet up with some friends, primarily Jarred’s future best man for our wedding. We laughed and joked with each other, and I watched the others’ playing board games which I opted out of due to fatigue.

We decided to leave as the sky began to darken, catching a much cooler and quieter tube back to Green Park from Stratford. We changed onto the Piccadilly line to St Pancras, during which a woman entered the tube with a very friendly dog called Charles who licked my wheelchair while trying to lick my hand.

Once again I slept very well and was only woken when the alarm rang. We got dressed and packed our bags, checking out of the hotel a little after 9 am, before returning to the British Museum to see the exhibits we had missed before. The morning was another bright one but it was significantly cooler, and there was a distinctly Autumnal feel to the day.

When we arrived at the museum we were directed along a route that surpassed the inaccessible wheelchair ramps, which they were working to replace. It was particularly reassuring to know that the museum staff had recognised the inadequacy of their disabled support, and were actively trying to improve it.

On the third floor of the British Museum the mummies can be found. I was fascinated by the biochemical processes of mummification, and was particularly entranced by the ability of modern science to be able to determine the diseases suffered by some mummies simply by looking at their remains. As it turned out the state of their teeth enabled the diet of the Ancient Egyptians to be understood too. I was also amused to find a prosthetic toe found on a mummy, proving that disability has been a problem for many millennia.

Image description: a prosthetic toe found on an Egyptian mummy.

A few rooms further through housed the infamous Sutton Hoo helmet, one of only four of the delicate and probably ceremonial Anglo-Saxon helmets in existence, and then we came to the hall of clocks. We passed through the darkened room slowly, looking at the wide range of mechanisms used to track time throughout history, eventually arriving at a Sony digital alarm clock the like of which I had owned as a child. As we exited the room we came to a lovely view point of the museum, and it struck 11 am; there was a cacophony of chiming behind us much like the opening scene of Back to the Future.

Image description: looking up at the patterned roof in the central area of the British Museum.

After exploring the Aztec and Enlightenment galleries on the main floor of the museum, we went to the old, slow lift to leave. Just as the lift arrived, a powered wheelchair pulled up alongside us. The man in it was exceedingly grateful when we pulled the manual wheelchair over as far as possible, giving him room to enter the lift beside us instead of waiting. I explained that I used a powered wheelchair myself most of the time and knew just how frustrating it could be. He smiled and thanked us again as the lift arrived at the disabled entrance, and we made our separate ways across London.

We wandered through the streets of North London, making a small detour to buy lunch to be eaten on the train, and arrived at King’s Cross in time for our train. We approached the disabled support desk with our paperwork and were invited into a quiet side room to wait for our porter. The quiet, calm room was extremely pleasant after the bustle of one of the busiest train stations in the UK and was designed specifically to help people who were anxious in crowds to unwind before the journey. The porter arrived as promised and we were helped onto the train well before we were due to leave, so we relaxed into our seats. As we tucked into our lunches the train began to roll slowly, and we were on the way back to Leeds. I fell asleep for a large portion of the journey, which was uneventful, and I was very happy to see a porter standing outside our carriage as we pulled into the train station in Leeds.

Image description: taken from the train window before we set off, looking out over the platforms of King's Cross at another train.

London Calling: Part 2.

That evening I had a bath. The hotel was built over a set of tunnels, one for the trains in and out of London and one for the various tube lines running from St Pancras, the tube station attached to King’s Cross. As I submerged myself in the warm water a train ran underneath us and the water made a strange bubbling noise around me. Having not eaten Mexican food recently I was perplexed, and it took me a minute to figure out what the noise was.

Perhaps it was the fatigue from the long day, perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the insanely comfortable bed, but that night I slept better than I had for months. Even the trains failed to wake me, and the rattling of their passing beneath us was strangely soothing. I didn’t wake until the alarm sounded at 8 am the next morning, and while eating breakfast I discussed various futile plans with Jarred for stealing the mattresses.

The morning was bright and sunny and after getting dressed, I leant against the window frame watching the trains rattle past until Jarred was also ready. We made our way to the nearest entrance to St Pancras, but the lift here had been closed without warning. Fortunately,at another entrance a different lift was available, and we went underground. We bought our tickets in the unbelievably stuffy ticket hall, and then hopped on the Piccadilly line to Green Park, which was the nearest accessible tube station to the Science Museum, our destination.

Image description: the view from the hotel window overlooking the train tracks as a tube train speeds underneath us.

We went straight from the tube station to Green Park, and the fresh air was a welcome relief from the heated stuffiness of the underground tunnels. We had coffee at one of a small chain of coffee shops found in central London’s parks, and then made our way towards Buckingham palace.

Once Jarred had snapped the obligatory photo of me in front of the palace we made our way through Hyde Park, along the edge of the Serpentine. The day was warm and soon we shed our coats to hang them off the back of the wheelchair. About half way along the Serpentine we spotted a heron wading through the water, slow and graceful as if it were royalty.

Eventually, we arrived at the Science Museum on exhibition road, adjacent to the Natural History Museum. Here, I met Jarred’s mother and little brother for the first time, and we went to the café in the museum to eat lunch together. Jarred’s sister, who worked at the Imperial College next door joined us for her lunch hour, and we sat together, laughing and joking as if we had known each other for years.

After this, Jarred’s sister returned to work, and the rest of us explored the Science Museum together. The space exhibition had life-size models of rocket engines, the moon-landing station, and even one of the surprisingly small Hubble telescope. Tim Peake even had an exhibition dedicated to him as the first Brit to enter the International Space Station, and the first Brit to undertake a spacewalk. The floor above housed an entire room dedicated to genetics and DNA, where I was able to answer a plethora questions from Jarred’s little brother, who is an aspiring scientist himself. I was in awe of the model built by Crick and Watson to discover the structure of DNA, one of the biggest and most important discoveries of the 20th century. Above this was the environment floor, and after this a floor dedicated to flight. This including model Spitfires, and even a model of the first machine ever to fly.

All too soon the afternoon came to an end, and we were saying goodbye to our family. The sun was still shining as we traveled back through Hyde Park and Green Park, returning to the tube station just as rush hour began to kick in.

Having bought an unlimited travel ticket for the whole day, we were able to bypass the ticket hall in Green Park tube station, instead going straight to the Jubilee line headed for Stratford. While the platform was crowded, we didn’t have to travel far to the raised platform for wheelchair access, and within a minute the strong breeze that announces the presence of a train far before you see or hear it rushed past us. The tube squealed to a halt and we were able to squeeze into the wheelchair space inside the carriage. Jarred clicked the wheelchair brakes on to prevent any inertia-related incidents, and then we were off, howling down the dark tunnels and stopping every few minutes. I felt a little like Katniss Everdeen headed to the Capitol of Panem, except I didn’t have to worry about a murdering contest at the end of the line.

At each stop more and more people climbed aboard the carriage. Soon every seat was taken, as was most of the standing room too. It was easy to identify the regular users of the tube; they were standing unaided in the carriage, looking at their phones or reading a book with their bags between their ankles, swaying gently with the motion. The heat of so many crammed into such a small place was overwhelming and I had to avoid several bags held on a level with my head, but I still had to wonder what all the fuss of the London Underground during rush hour was about, as I had faced far worse before.

Eventually, the train sped into daylight, and I was momentarily blinded after the darkness. Minutes later it came to a halt at the end of the line, Stratford. We left the tube and wandered over to Westfield, the humongous shopping centre over-looking the 2012 Olympic park, where we ate our evening meal.

London Calling: Part 1.

Just prior to midday on the 30th August Jarred and myself made our way down to the train station, a mere 10 minutes down a gentle slope surrounded by shops. I had borrowed my mother’s manual wheelchair which Jarred was pushing as I wasn’t confident that the trains could accommodate my powered wheelchair. We grabbed sandwiches from a café hidden just behind the doorway of the train station and sat in the waiting area looking at the departure board, waiting for the 1.15 pm to London King’s Cross (yes, that is the one featured in Harry Potter) to appear.

Half an hour before we were due to leave we went to the disabled support desk. When booking the train tickets we had also booked a porter and ramp in advance, and I had printed off the documentation to prove this. Once the documents were shown to the porters they happily escorted us to the train, and by 1 pm we were safely aboard. The only fly in the ointment was the woman who had a pram in the space reserved for wheelchairs, who not only refused to move (despite the notices and even the law giving wheelchair users priority to these spaces), but once I had claimed a nearby seat and the wheelchair had been folded up, fretted to Jarred that it would fall on her precious offspring. Her precious offspring then continued to cry all the way to Wakefield, where I was grateful to see them exit the train.

A little over half way through the journey, having drunk a 500 ml bottle of Coke Zero, certain needs made their presence felt. I waited until the next stop before getting up and hobbling the few metres to the bathroom. Unfortunately the train set off just as I was getting up again, and I very nearly ended up flat on the rather sticky floor. I managed to steady myself against the walls of the cabin and then made the short journey back to my window seat.

As I sat down Jarred began to laugh. Naturally assuming he was laughing at me for something stupid like having toilet paper stuck to my jeans (we’ve all been there), I glared at him. Then I realised that he was using his phone to track the progress of our train, and as it turned out, we were passing through the charmingly named “Bitchfield”.

Less than an hour later we pulled into Kings Cross, where a porter greeted us with a ramp almost as soon as the train had come to a halt. We made our way through the impressive train station, which in all seriousness has a dedicated Harry Potter shop, alongside a platform 9¾ complete with luggage rack entering the wall which fans spend hours queuing by just to get a photo of it.

We wandered out of the train station, from which our hotel could be seen. We crossed the insanely busy roads in the pouring rain, and were soaked by the time we reached the reception desk. The lovely receptionist offered us two key cards for our room, not just one, in case I wanted to venture out on my own. Given that I was relying on Jarred to push me everywhere this would have been pointless, but the unprejudiced gesture was very much appreciated anyway.

The room we had been given was perfect, with plenty of room to park the wheelchair, and a bathroom full of grab rails to help me move around. The beds were twin beds because in most cases a disabled person would be with a carer, and it wouldn’t be appropriate to share a bed. Fortunately the beds were pushed together, although on occasion one or the other of us disappeared down the gap between them.

Tired as we were, it seemed a shame to waste the remaining afternoon in our hotel room, and so we made our way to a nearby attraction you may have heard of; the British Museum. It was both free to enter and accessible, although the tent where bags were checked by security guards had wheelchair ramps that were, rather ironically, almost impossible to surpass in the wheelchair. Just inside the accessible entrance to the side of the museum there was an old lift. The first time the lift arrived for us, however, we couldn’t enter because a family of physically able-bodied people refused to budge one inch. The lift being old and slow, it was another 5 minutes before we finally got to enter the lift.

With only an hour or so before the museum closed, we didn’t have time to explore more than part of the Ancient Egyptian display. However, we still had plenty of time to find some impressive artefacts including the Rosetta stone, and this sheep-sphynx that reminded me of my favourite teddy, a sheep named Lamb-da.

Image description: a stone ram in a Sphinx-like position found in the Egyptian area of the British Museum.

By 6 pm we had returned to the hotel, where we made hot drinks to warm ourselves through. After this, we made our way to the only accessible pub in the vicinity – Wetherspoon’s. Having travelled all the way to London, we ended up in a pub we have less than 10 minutes from our flat. One hotdog, millionaire sundae, and Strongbow Dark Fruits later, I was feeling very happy.

Pride Without Prejudice.

The first weekend in August marks Pride in Leeds, when the LGBTQ+ community come together with the rest of population to celebrate their differences, mostly by sinking back huge quantities of alcohol. This being my first pride since coming out as bisexual I was incredibly excited to be attending the various events occurring in the city centre throughout the weekend. So excited, in fact, that I decided to turn my wheelchair into Donald Trump’s worst nightmare.

Image description: my wheelchair with a pride flag on the back, and a rainbow cushion on the seat.

On the Saturday the sun was out, and a gentle breeze helped to prevent my skin from burning and peeling off like I was some kind of mutant reptile in the roasting 20°C heat. Jarred and myself made our way to the viaduct, a region of Leeds so closely associated with gay culture that a man in a police uniform walking down the street is not necessarily a policeman. A street party had been set up; there was music playing and an impressively sophisticated outdoor bar set up on one side of the street. There was also a small stage and people were being invited up onto the stage to sing and dance together. It was, perhaps, the only time I’ve ever been glad to see something inaccessible.

We meandered up and down the street, listening to music and investigating the few stalls there were. After a little while the music stopped rather abruptly, and a drag queen whose make-up was far in advance of anything I could do took to the stage, introducing a performance by the Show Girls, a group of drag performers from one of the local venues. During the introduction various members of the audience were subjected to light-hearted criticisms, such as querying whether a woman’s afro was fake or real, or whether one man naturally had silky smooth legs. Being on the front row, I was pretty easy to spot.

“And oh, look, Davros has delighted us with their company!”

Jarred and myself both burst into uproarious laughter, setting off the rest of the crowd who had seemed a little nervous as to how to react. What no one seemed to realise is that it was actually quite refreshing for someone else to make a joke about my wheelchair, which quickly becomes the elephant in the room when people do everything they can to ignore its presence for political correctness, highlighting in the process that the wheelchair is all they see. The drag queen was teasing everyone, not just myself, and there was nothing to take offence to.

The Pride parade took place on the Sunday, starting in Millenium square in the centre of Leeds with a free-entry concert. The council had made sure to provide an elevated wheelchair platform meaning that I could see the stage above the rest of the crowd, although because I couldn’t see through the crowd, another audience member had to direct me to said platform. I lost count of how many other wheelchair users I saw at the event, and not once did I have to deal with things thrust in my face or people stepping directly over my feet. Nobody stared at me, and nobody ignored me either.

Towards the end of the concert I was invited to ride on one of the council’s accessible buses in the parade, representing both the LGBTQ+ and disabled community. I jumped at the opportunity, figuratively, not literally of course. Once I was on the bus my wheelchair was secured safely to the floor of the bus by a driver who clearly had many years of experience doing this. I got the flag I had attached to my wheelchair to wave, and waved it while meandering slowly through the crowded streets until my arm felt like Attila the Hun was trying to remove it. I was extremely surprised to find that I got a huge response from the crowd, who cheered loudly and waved vigorously back at me.

The best reaction of all the crowd members came from another wheelchair user who I had shared the wheelchair platform with earlier in the day. When she saw me waving from the bus her face practically split in half as she grinned from ear-to-ear, and I knew then that I had truly made a difference to someone’s day.

I was as welcome in that crowd as I am at my beloved wrestling shows, and I hope that I never forget what it was like to find pride without prejudice.

Pimp my Ride 2: The Outfit.

If you’ll pardon the expression, there is another way to stand out as a wheelchair user besides decorating the wheelchair itself, and that is the way in which I decorate myself. I have always loved clothes and it is rare that I am able to resist the tempting call of a sale rail or charity shop bargain. You don’t need to be rich to be stylish.

Showing personality can be as simple as wearing a graphic t-shirt, like a band or film t-shirt, immediately showing the world a little bit about yourself and your preferences without having to say a word. It gives people a way of talking to me that doesn’t immediately concern the wheeled contraption beneath my behind, and that can make social situations a great deal less awkward. When I went to see an amateur production of the stage musical American Idiot, no one had to ask why I would want to see the production simply because my beloved Green Day t-shirt spoke for me.

Image description: sat in a local bar as a student. I'm wearing black converse with silver spots on, black & white striped knee socks, black shirts, a Green Day t-shirt, & a denim shirt worn like a cardigan.

Of course I would hardly be able to go to a job in such an outfit, but formal attire doesn’t have to be dull either. One of my favourite items of clothing is a red skirt with black dots all over it, which I have affectionately christened the “ladybird skirt”. It’s bright and cheerful, and when I wear it I frequently receive complements about my sense of style. Paired with a linen blouse covered in large, black swirls, I look as ready as ever for any work situation, even if the blouse did come from a charity sale.

Image description: stood in my room in student accommodation. I'm wearing a red skirt with black dots on, and a white blouse with black swirls embroidered on the front. My hair is in a bun.

Colour coordination is another simple trick I use to draw attention away from the wheelchair. Pairing black jeans with roses on the hips with a plain black top, studded belt, and red scarf is simple but effective. With Jarred following me around like a lost puppy, I knew that was an outfit that I had thought out well.

Image description: slouched in a coffee shop armchair. I'm wearing black knee-high boots, black skinny jeans with red roses embroidered on the hips, a plain black top, & bright red scarf.

Even evening wear does not have to lack personality as a wheelchair user, although admittedly long, flowing gowns would only become entangled around the wheels and motors on my chair. The little black dress is a timeless classic, and is suitable for most occasions too. Paired with a little colour in the tights I manage to give the classic dress a slight twist.

Image description: stood up in my student residence. I'm wearing black heels, plum-coloured tights, & a plain black dress. The dress is made of a velveteen material and is form-fitting. My hair is straightened and loose.

I also own a leopard print dress, and another black dress, this time with silver sequins on the skirt. Both of these always seem to make people smile when I wear them, and I am told that they suit me well.

Image description: taken from a professional photo shoot. I'm wearing a leopard print dress with a fitted top & short sleeves, and a thin black belt at my waist. My hair is loose. On the left I'm looking down, & on the right I'm looking at the camera.Image description: taken at the same photo shoot. I'm resting my head on my crossed hands, which are placed on the back of the chair. The photo was taken at an angle to make the pose look more natural. I'm wearing a black dress with a skirt of silver sequins, & a purple cardigan.

None of these outfits have ever left me out of pocket, but flamboyance leaves people easily fooled. Before I begin to sound as if this was merely an excuse to show off the few photographs of me in existence that don’t look weird or dorky, I will say that the way I dress does actually have a purpose. It informs people that I am more than a girl in a wheelchair. It tells people that I am a human, with likes and dislikes, and that I can make choices for myself. I find that a little character goes a long way as a social outsider, and anything that helps others to feel less awkward towards disability can only be a good thing as we move towards equality.

Special Edition: The Perfect Surprise.

In one of my early posts I talked about a wrestling company whose shows I frequently attended, and how welcoming and accepting the wrestling fans are (https://diaryofadisabledperson.wordpress.com/2017/02/26/an-unlikely-crowd/). These shows have become a staple of the relationship I have with Jarred and mean a lot to us. We attended one such show on Sunday 4th June 2017 and that evening turned out to be an extremely special one…

It was cloudy but dry when Jarred and myself reached the venue of the wrestling show, and we wandered indoors to the area reserved for wheelchair users. As the crowd gathered around the ring, the music was playing so loudly that I could feel my wheelchair vibrating, but the chatter of the crowd was not drowned out, growing increasingly louder with anticipation as the show approached. Then the music stopped and the commentators introduced the show, before the wrestlers for the first match came striding out to their respective theme songs.

After four matches the interval was announced, which mainly served as an excuse to revisit the bar. I wasn’t drinking that night as I’d had a stomach bug and was still feeling a little rough, and Jarred hadn’t finished his drink so didn’t need to go to the bar. Instead, he came and stood on my right side, took my hand, and removed the ring I received as a gift for my 18th birthday from my godmother. The ring had been selected by my godfather but he passed away when I was 12, giving the ring additional sentimental value that no sum of money could replace.

Once the ring had been slipped off my finger, he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. In the middle of the crowd the proposal was somehow beautifully private, and few people appeared to notice. I nodded before replying “yes” over the music, too stunned to say much more at the time. Jarred then slipped the ring onto my left hand as my engagement ring, kissed me gently on the cheek and we prepared to watch the second half of the show.

At the end of the show we left quite quickly by our usual standards, and meandered home along the pavements. As soon as the door to my flat had closed behind us I rang one of my closest friends. Towards the end of secondary school we had made a semi-serious promise to act as bridesmaids at each other’s weddings. She was the first to hear about the engagement, and was more than happy to fulfil her side of the promise.

The next day was a flurry of phone calls and Facebook posts letting our friends and families know what had happened. The outpouring of well-wishes on social media was almost as overwhelming as the proposal itself, and I knew that this was a moment worth documenting. Although this doesn’t particularly relate to disability, Diary of a Disabled Person seemed the perfect place to write about the perfect surprise.

Image description: my left hand flat on the white tabletop, showing off my engagement ring. It's a simple gold band with 1 diamond in between 2 rubies on top. I have painted my nails black & am wearing a watch.