Grace and I leapt up spilling bits of paper, poop bags, biros and small change everywhere. The workshop ground to a halt at which point Grace, somewhat like the Queen, went around to each individual to say good-bye grinning and bestowing blessings. She does celebrity remarkably well.
We bussed and trained and hooched it back home..it only took four hours ..and then the lovely Guide Dog woman came and then it was just me here and the suitcase which looks like a sensible shape until you try to pack it. ‘Grace’ (c) T. Bush 09
I can’t fit my sandals in. Even if I fold them..which is bloody difficult.
Tomorrow I will NOT ask for assistance at the airport as they have a habit of taking ‘the disabled’ and herding them into ‘Disabled Holding Pens’. A nice quiet area you would think would be a good thing, away from the push and shove of the shopping quadrangle of Heathrow but remember these are for ‘Disabled’ people. Disabled people just sit and drool. We are not supposed to need anything but condescension and prune juice. In this quiet area there are no working areas, no lap top plug ins, no decent coffee machines and worst of all considering if you are a disabled it is the one thing you NEED to do when travelling….nowhere to drink! So no holding pen for me.
Zambia here I come!