If you don’t know that already, Namur is the city from where I am and Brussels is where I live. Last Saturday, I was in Namur for few hours and that made me realize how much, sometimes, we can idealize certain things because we are attached to them. That realization came when a friend asked me « Where did you spend time with your friends when you lived here? » and NOTHING, nothing came to mind. Why? Because it is not a wheelchair friendly city.

I left Namur forever (sounds dramatic) in August 2013, but before that, in July I went to spend a month in England with my sister. We spent time in Manchester, then visited Liverpool, Bristol, Bath and London. Then, we came back together in Belgium.

I had two amazing nurses in Namur, they were the reason why I could travel alone from Namur to Manchester. Indeed, I could rely on them for everything and in this case, I could be one hundred percent sure of that my backpack was secured on the wheelchair, that nothing would fall from it, because everything was well closed and that they would be on time. They cared. At that stage, we were already friends, but even before our friendship, making me comfortable mattered to them, as carers. I knew that having them was priceless, while I had them, and I am happy that they knew that because I used to tell them.

The journey from Brussels-Midi to London St Pancras International went smoothly, and to reach the London Euston station for the connecting train to Machester, I did not take a cab because I came few times before and the weather was good. The first time I made that journey, things were different… I was a bit stressed because I did not know where the Euston station was, either where and if I would find an accessible cab. It turned out that it was easy to find the area where the cabs were… I just needed to follow everybody. Then, none of the cabs there didn’t seem to be wheelchair friendly but I stayed in the queue waiting for my turn. When the driver saw me, he came out of this car, which seems to be a bit small, he said « Hello », I answered. He magically pulled out a ramp. I  was amazed! I told him where I was going. It wasn’t far at all. So, in July, I didn’t need the cab to go from one station to another. The journey to Manchester also went smoothly.

Manchester is a wheelchair friendly city with friendly people. We were staying in a town called Urmston, located at about 10km from the city center of Manchester, and even this town is wheelchair friendly.

As I told you, we visited Liverpool. I couldn’t help singing some of The Beatles’ songs in my head while visiting this lovely city.

Here too, people are nice and easily talk to each other, that’s how we found out that I better understand the accent from there than the one from Manchester. It is the opposite for my sister. I have to tell you something, though… after few weeks in Manchester using public transports and living life without wondering about accessibility, I got used to that. So when I visited Liverpool, my focus was not that much on accessibility anymore but on enjoying the moment whether it rains or not. We had rain and sun on that day and it didn’t matter. What mattered was that we were free to go wherever we wanted regardless of the fact that I was using a wheelchair and my sister was using the muscles of her legs to go around.

Before heading back to Namur, we had three visits to make. One of them was Bristol. Well, the journey to Bristol was quite something…

I didn’t tell you that my sister was moving back to Namur after living in Manchester for a while. So, it wasn’t a light journey to make. The day we were leaving Manchester, my sister had to stay at the house for a few last minute’s details, so we split. I left first with my eight years old nephew, we took the bus to reach Manchester Piccadilly to be on time for the assistance to access the train. Everything was fine, my nephew is used to spend time with me. We safely arrived at the train station and the booked assistance was ready. As the departure time was close and my sister wasn’t there, I had to decide to go into the train after explaining to my nephew that his mom would find us inside.

I explained the train manager the situation. He was nice and said that he would see if he sees my sister arriving. My nephew was stressed, he was watching through the window. I was trying to reassure him by saying that she would make it on time. The truth is I didn’t know if she would arrive on time and I wasn’t ready to make that journey alone with the little boy.

« Mum is there! », he suddenly said looking through the window, with joy in his voice. I was so relieved. Then, he said « The train manager doesn’t want her to get in! I want my mum! » and he started crying, saying that he is mean. Oh là là! Drama… I wanted to cry too cause I did not know if I would be able to handle my nephew for hours on a train. Instead, I needed to keep a clear mind and comfort him, telling him that the train manager certainly had to follow the rules of safety by not letting his mom come with us. The man came and explained that he could, unfortunately, not let my sister get in because the signal had already been given. And she had many bags… The good news was that light bags filled with food were with me and it was lunchtime.

For that journey, we had a connecting train to take in Birmingham where my nephew played hide and sick with some seagulls, the assistance staff was nice and we safely arrived in Bristol.

This story is not over, there is more to tell you about and I will tell you everything very soon.

Take care of your loved ones,
« Petit Cyborg »