I don’t usually believe in coincidences, but what happened yesterday was quite uncanny. For the last few days, I’ve been using my spare powerchair as the battery on my main chair was buggered. It’s a slow, awkward thing which I was fast developing a deep loathing for. You can’t turn easily in it, and it has no footplate. Lyn and I had gone to the park for a coffee, after which Lyn suggested we go for a walk. Ordinarily I would have been up for it, but my spare chair was becoming so tiresome I had to lift my feet off the ground due to the lack of footplate – that I got less than a hundred metres towards Blackheath when I decided to jack it in and head home.

I got back here feeling rather down about matters: a walk over to Greenwich park would have been lovely. The house was empty: we had left Dom here, but he had gone shopping. Forlornly, I settled down at my computer, checking the four or five sites one always checks when getting back to your machine. I hadn’t been here five minutes, though, when the doorbell rang. Wondering who it could be, I went to answer it. I was amazed to see Keith from Welling Mobility there, delivering my main chair, The Rotarran, back. I thought he was coming today, not yesterday. The weird thing is, had I not turned back precisely when I did, I would have completely missed him. It seemed that providence was smiling on me after all.

I thanked Keith eagerly. It might not be as fast as my old f55, but compared to my spare, that chair is the bee’s knees. I suddenly felt liberated; myself again. It’s funny how most people see wheelchairs as symbols of captivity, when for many people like myself they can be emblems of freedom. It is just incredible that I came home when I did, or I’d have missed Keith, he’ have taken my chair away again having found this place empty, and I would still be struggling.