Wimbledon - The search for Boris!

Years and years ago when I lived amongst the girlies in Essex, Karen and I went to Wimbledon to the tennis a few times.  It usually rained on those occasions but one year we did see Steffi Graff play an up-and-coming youngster called Venus Williams.  I can't remember any other games so that's how memorable the tennis was.  I do however remember the rain, endless rain and one year ending up in hospital the day after when  infected fluid on my right knee burst and sent me very poorly indeed.  I missed watching both the finals as I couldn't get out of bed to the tv room; Lindsay Davenport & Pete Sampras won so it must have been 1999.
Anyway, I always forget to apply for tickets usually missing applications for the ballot by weeks.  But this year I remembered.  I applied for 4 tickets (one a wheelchair ticket) and got offered 2 tickets for £40, the guest or 'carer' ticket is free.  That is the first groovy thing about Wimbledon.

Now my mate Karen is a highly organised and very lovely Virgo.  She ploughs a path through everything and gets things done.  And of all the people I know who are drivers, it is her I am in awe of.  She used to take me to hospital appointments at The Middlesex in the heart of London and she could drive her silver Vigo van with a cig in one hand, a coffee in the other and all the while having a conversation.
So she picked me up on Tuesday 25th June at around 9am from Mel & Pete's little Essex cottage.  She was a tad late as she'd moved house the previous day and with unexpected roadworks on the way to me she'd got delayed.  I wouldn't move for a week had I moved house the previous day but Karen was looking forward to a day's 'holiday'.

Hari came with us too as he was off for a wander round London and to meet an old friend Simon for some lunch at a place called Coopers in Lower Marsh.  Hari was squashed into Domino the Dog's smelly dog-bed in the jump-seat in the truck, his long legs folded up under his chin and off we set, round the back roads to Stansted and then down the M11 into London town.  Once upon a time, I used to get the train up to Charing Cross and have a wander round on my own for hours but sadly those days are gone as mobility issues dictate but driving in with Karen has always been a pleasure as she knows her way around and the familiar route suddenly opened up before me again.  This time though we were treated to the site of the Olympic Park, now deserted and looking derelict, but exciting to see none-the-less.
Down the Whitechapel Road, past the Blind Beggar pub (of Kray Twins fame), past the Royal Free Hospital which is now boarded up and past the Women's Library where I once spent 4 hours in the reading room reading Annie Kenney's 'Memoirs of a Militant' and almost had a tantrum when I realised I couldn't take it home with me.
Suddenly the wonderful Tower of London appeared and the majestic Tower Bridge loomed ahead of us as we headed south of the river, but we were already on a red route and had been gassing so much there was now nowhere to drop Hari.  As we neared the Elephant & Castle and stopped in traffic he jumped out of his jump-seat giving me a fleeting kiss as he went, and there he was gone swallowed up by London town as we drove away.

In Tooting we stopped so Karen could 'put her face on' and get us both a coffee (tea for me) and a cake each.  By the time we pulled up in Wimbledon at Karen's sisters house (Gill always allows us to park outside with a permit which saves us struggling with parking in the huge tennis car parks/traffic around the tennis) our taxi was already waiting.  The lovely man put the wheelchair and all our baggage, for we had quite a bit, into the boot while we used Gill's loo and soon we were off to the All England Club & Lawn Tennis Association. I was brimming with excitement as we neared the grounds and saw all the people, the queues, the colours and all the smiles.

Security is tight, as you might imagine around the grounds so the cabbie asked where was best for us to be dropped and a lady in Wimbledon colours said 'Here', so we unloaded which as you also might imagine takes a little time with a wheelchair, baggage, one crip and one Virgo.... and she was soon hassling us a little to get a move on.  I threw her a look which said "Well you told us that here was ok love, so chill ya boots eh"
But then out of nowhere a lovely gentleman (also in Wimbledon colours) appeared and asked us to follow him.  He fast-tracked us past the queue (the 2nd groovy thing about Wimbledon) to the very helpful people seaching everyone's bags.  After a brief rummage and furtle through our things I was asked if I had any cutlery,
"yes, forks" said I
"plastic forks?" said he
"No, metal ones I'm afraid" said I
"OK, promise me you won't stab anyone with them" said he
"Oh I won't, I promise" said I "I want them for eating my coleslaw" and with a smile we were sent on our way.  And we were in.  This was my first opportunity to scan the crowds, there was no sign of Boris.

We wandered for a while taking in the crowds and the sheer number of people, listening to the sound of balls hitting rackets, umpire's shouting scores and the general hub-bub of so many people in one space.  We noticed more outdoor eating places than last time we were here.  But last time you had to leave food/picnic hampers at Left Luggage, there is no such luxury anymore and you must take everything with you everywhere which of course means that there is a baggage size restriction.
The 3rd groovy thing about Wimbledon is that you can smoke anywhere outside (except in the courts, obviously).  Now I gave up smoking a few years ago purely for health reasons as I actually enjoyed smoking but I do partake of the odd rollie when I am with a smoker, so I was pleased for Karen.  I was pleased that she could smoke freely without being squashed into a little caged area full of smokers where she would undoubtedly be tutted at and scorned by people who considered themselves superior (which they wouldn't be, they just think they are).  We were, as always, considerate in our smoking only doing it near others were partaking, not near people eating and we threw our stubbs away in the appropriate place.
The 4th groovy thing about Wimbledon is that all their signage is very positive.  There aren't many signs with 'No', 'Don't' and 'Prosecutors will be shot'; you know the kind, they were more "Please refrain from..." and 'would patrons kindly...', it seems positive signage leads to people being much happier to follow the rules.
Still no sign of Boris, btw.

After a slight panicky accident/incident which I won't go into, we were issued with a RADAR key (groovy thing about Wimbledon no 5) so I could access all disabled loos freely and without having to ask as you so often have to with disabled loos.  We made our way to No.1 court, which was ramped all the way to our little disabled bay which held 5 gaps for wheelchairs and 5 fold down seats for each 'guest'.  We were next to a couple who were here for the first time and couldn't believe how close to the court they were.  They were certainly great seats and with tons of room around them (groovy thing No.6).

My search for Boris continued apace as I thought he *might* be commentating on the first match but I couldn't see him anywhere (there were thousands of people!!)  We watched Juan Martin Del Potro, who is quite handsome, beat Albert Ramos and then Laura Robson beat Maria Kirilenko, which meant we could finally say that we'd seen a Brit win at Wimbledon :)

 Maria Kirilenko & Laura Robson having a well earned rest

The only bad point about the disabled seating was immediately apparent when Laura Robson fired her winning shot as everyone on the row in front of us stood to applaude, quite rightly, and we couldn't see anything!  But I let them off.

On one occasion I decided not to disturb Karen and set off to the loo myself.  I soon came unstuck as the what had appeared to be gentle slopes when we were entering No.1 court, now seemed like mountains as I was under my own steam but a couple of lovely ladies offered to take a handle each and push me to the Ladies.  That's the thing about Wimbledon; everyone is very, very helpful when needed but not in the slightest patronising.  (Still no sign of Boris)

We ate our picnic during the Laura Robson game, between cheering, clapping and "oooohing" everytime a line call was challenged.  Thomas Berdych v Martin Klizan was the 3rd match on No.1 court and after a few games which were uneventful we went for a wander, by now it was 5.15pm and thoughts turned to getting home.  Hari, as it turned out, had made his way to Wimbledon Park so was not far away so we arranged to meet him at Gate 13 (apparently the best place to get a cab with the wheelchair) and set off there, searching for Boris all the way.  I even took photo's of the insides of any office/building which looked like it might be 'staff only'... sad I know!

We were soon back at Gill's house having a cuppa tea and then driving home through London and then up the M11 to the wilds of rural Essex and Little Easton.  Karen had to go on and feed the lambs before going home but I was knackered, it had been a long but joyous day.

Thanks to all the staff, volunteers etc at Wimbledon for making a disabled visitors experience a non-patronising, enjoyable and totally accessible one.  Most thanks go to Karen who is a star and it is always a pleasure to spend a day with her.
But I must say, no thanks go to Mr Boris Becker who managed to steer clear of us all day and his absence was duly noted..... probably a very wise decision on his part though.  But I will apply for 2014 tickets and will search again with renewed vigour, mark my words!!  Heh heh heh

NHS Knickers - who knew?!

In all my years of having an Ostomy, I heard something a couple of months ago which made me fair faint it did.

If you have an Ostomy (and I think it's an Ostomy of any kind) and you live in the UK, you are entitled to 6 free, yes FREE pairs of knickers (or the male equivalent I guess) on prescription per year on the good old NHS.
Who knew?!  Did you know?  I'm 45 and I didn't know.  But I do now.

I stumbled across this little fact when I was perusing the facebook page of a fabulous underwear company called Vanilla Blush (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Vanilla-Blush/113027145384164?fref=ts), they make underwear, sexy well fitting underwear (and swim-wear) for people who have an ostomy.
I noticed in their fans comments section a few people were mentioning NHS knickers.
I went and had a look and sure enough they were!  So, I inquired and was directed towards their website.  Now the NHS section isn't as glam as their other stuff (and do take a look because there are some lovely things on there) but they are practical and ohhh so comfortable.  I ordered 6 pairs; 3 black and 3 white and waited.

They came a few weeks later and the whole process was hassle free and user friendly. I am, at this moment, wearing a pair of the black. Too much info? I won't take a picture to show you.  I just wanted other Ostomy wearers to know this fact and get their free knickers.  I'm sure you can get them from other places but I would recommend Vanilla Blush as their underwear is practical (for Ostomy wearers), very, very comfortable and also very girlie; they feel lovely against my skin.

Do it, get them ordered.  Doooo Itttttttttttt   :)

A bit of waffle on a sunny day :)

Isn't this weather glorious??  I love the sunshine, especially because it generally makes grumpy people less grumpy and happy people smile more.  But it's just nice to have the back door open and fresh air flooding through the house.  And as for washing, if it isn't tied down, its gets washed and hung out to dry instead of hanging around damp on radiators for days and then chucked absent mindedly in the airing cupboard.

So, in other non-weather related news....
My last physio session at MRI was more successful than the fortnight before.  Mind you, my attitude on going in was better so that probably helped.  First exercise was the bike pedals and you'll never guess... I did a full rotation of the pedals on my first try!!  My knee didn't hurt (it felt a little uncomfortable) but no pain as such and I sat there merrily cycling away going nowhere but as I haven't been able to do this for well over 10 years I was pretty chuffed.  There was one small snag however.... I could only do it in reverse - lol - so had I been riding an actual bike, I would have been going backwards.  But hey-ho, tis progress.
My bend was at 98 degrees at its best

But for every high there is a low.  My low came when I had my first fall, post op.  Now obviously I'm no stranger to falling over, every picture of me as a kid shows me with a plaster on one or both knees.

See, plaster on knee and usually the left one!

The school nurse used to say she knew when I'd fallen cos she'd hear the screams from the playground.  But I have been a little nervous about falling on this monster piece of metal.  I got up from the computer, grabbed my crutch and set off to the kitchen but unbeknown to me (because I wasn't paying attention) my left foot was caught in the cable of the printer which is on the floor next to the desk.  I'd only gone 2 steps with Molly-cat walking ahead (I think I was going to let her out) when down I went and landed square on both knees.  It was quite comical from a cat perspective as it was like my downdraft catapulted Molly in one jump to the back door I startled her so much.  I lay on the floor on my back thinking.... 'how long til it hurts?' and waiting for the excruciating pain but luckily it didn't come.  The skin on and directly around my knee doesn't seem to have any feeling so there was no surface pain and as I lay there I realised it didn't hurt at all, it was the shock of falling that had scared me more.  All I was left with is quite a bruise on my left arm where the cuff of the crutch was when I fell, not a scratch or need for a plaster on my knee.... I felt a bit cheated!
Molly came over and sat wagging her tail impatiently so I dragged myself up on the computer chair in a very un-ladylike manner and carried on.

I bought some Bio Oil a couple of days ago.  Well I say 'bio oil' but after pricing it up in Boots and it being almost £9 a small bottle I thought sod that for a game of soldiers and went across the shopping concourse to Quality Save.  Good old Quality Save.  They had the same registered trademark stuff but for £4.99, some cheaper coco-oil one for 99p and one which was exactly the same looking as bio oil but a cheaper alternative for £1.99 which is what we went for.  I've been putting it on for 2 days but my scar is still there.  Lol.... wouldn't it be fab if it went that quickly!  But time will tell if it works.  I just couldn't bear paying the best part of a tenner for something that might/might not work.  10 quid will buy 2 pints of bitter on a sunny evening!