Surely there is something both ironic and kind of telling about a mobility shop which has a step to get into it. I don’t want to name the shop in question, or say where it is, other than to say that I go there quite frequently. Whenever I need to, I just roll up to the door and knock, and the very helpful staff come out and ask what I need. I better stress that I’m not saying this to criticise the shop’s owners, who have been very good to me. Yet I find it pertinent that I have rarely actually been in to the shop itself – it’s too small and cluttered with mobility scooters and walking frames for me to get around anyway.

Disability is changing: as I’ve said on here before, the notion of disability – socially at least – seems to be expanding. Cripples like myself, who have had conditions from birth which have effected our lives profoundly, seem to be being drowned out and pushed to one side when it comes to what constitutes a disabled person. More and more people are now identifying as disabled and opting to use the range of equipment sold in mobility shops, when they once might not have. The result, it would seem, is a mobility shop which has a step that anyone using a wheelchair or powerchair can’t actually get up. The fact that most of their customers wouldn’t have a problem getting through the door is surely rather telling.