I have known Mick since the 1960s when we both frequented the Crown, which at that time was the only pub in Manchester where males with long hair were allowed to go. In the 1970s by a circuitous route, because of a chance meeting with somebody in Devon, I finished up living in a town on the Lancashire and Yorkshire border called Colne. After I'd been there a few months I found to my surprise that Mick was renting a farmhouse about 3 miles away and our friendship was renewed.

Throughout the 1970s, while the 'city people' moved on to the latest fad or craze, Colne remained in a time warp, a last bastion of hippiedom. This suited me because my heart was with the hippie movement. I wanted to grow my hair as long as possible but found that no matter how long-haired and wild looking I became Mick always looked wilder.

Towards the end of 1970's Mick moved to Australia. He would come back to England once every three years to see old friends and to visit Glastonbury for the Solstice. When he came to England he would always find time to fit in a trip to India and Nepal, where he would usually spend at least six weeks. I remember feeling just a little envious of his lifestyle and his ability to maintain it.

Over the years his appearance didn't change much except maybe that now because he spent most of his life in sunnier climes his skin took on the quality of parchment.

In the early Nineties Mick turned up again but this time there was something wrong. Colne is a town of many hills and he could only get up them with the greatest difficulty. I lived on a steep hill like everybody else in Colne and when we went out walking Mick had to continually stop to rest. A lifetime of heavy smoking appeared at last to have taken its toll and when he went back to Australia I wondered if I would ever see him again.

In 1997 I was diagnosed with MS and the next year Mick arrived looking wilder than ever but what I found amazing was that his health had improved! Apparently the problem had been blocked arteries. The reason for his remarkable recovery was that veins had been taken from his stomach and put them into his legs. So now our positions were reversed, it was me who was struggling. He told me that the main reason for his visit was to pick up some Northumbrian pipes. They were being made for him by the legendary Ickornshaw Pete and he had ordered them the last time he was in England.

In 2000 I had a bad relapse and finished up living in a bungalow on a quiet cul-de-sac. I hadn't been living there long when sure enough Mick turned up again. He was in England to pick up the Northumbrian pipes which hadn't been ready for him on his last visit. He told me Pete had been avoiding him and that he thought the pipes may not be ready yet.

I said with an incredulous voice, "You ordered them six years ago surely they must be ready by now?"

Mick jumped to Pete's defence, "He's the best in the business. There's a long waiting list for his pipes." I retorted with, "If it takes him so long to make them I'm not surprised!"

I've never known Mick to get angry, he's not the type, but I thought I detected a hint of irritation as he said, "Pete's good but he's always stoned!" He then had a therapeutic blow on a penny whistle that he carried around with him at all times.

We talked of various mutual acquaintances before he said, "Do you get out much?" I told him I had been living in this house for the last three months and apart from a day trip to the dentist I hadn't been outside. He looked out of the window and said "The weather's not so bad, would you like to go for a walk?" When I asked if he was sure he replied gesticulating with his arms "I'm over here and I'm fitter than I've been in years, so use me, use me!" Well if he put it like that how could I refuse?

To get out of the cul-de-sac you had to turn right outside the front door. The sun was shining, breeze in my face, fresh air, it felt good. The street we went along now went downhill, nothing steep but definitely downhill. At the end of the street was a quite busy main road. As we approached this main road I started to feel uneasy. I could hear Mick wheezing behind me and could tell he was having trouble controlling the chair. We got to the bottom of the hill safely much to my relief and turned right. Things were better now because we were on the flat but I could tell from the sounds Mick was making he was still struggling. The town where I was living wasn't particularly big and the pavement soon petered out and became a grass verge. We walked towards the traffic which was heavy. Wagons sped by us and I began to feel worried as visions of Mick losing control of the wheelchair and me careering under a juggernaut went through my mind. What a daft away to go!

Over my shoulder I shouted above the sound of the traffic, "I don't think there's much up here, shall we go back?". I think Mick realised he had bitten off more than he could chew and didn't need asking twice. At the bottom of the hill leading back to my house was a bench and when we got there Mick sat down to gather his strength for the final ascent. We sat there for a long time in the sunshine and it was very pleasant. It's nice to have friends.

Mick is due to come over to England again next summer. He's hoping to pick up some Northumbrian pipes!

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Last year I had an adventure.

The first time I realized something was happening was when my stepson Alexander visited me with his girlfriend, Nancy. Apparently they were helping to set up a Rainbow Gathering not far away from where I live. A little later I received rumours of several 'alternatives' wondering around the village. The next thing my daughter, Jacqueline visited with her children and told me that they were now living at the encampment and would really like me to come and see them there.

Just recently my mobility hasn't been very good and I have found it impossible to get into the vehicle at the passenger door. The next morning I was bemoaning the fact that I wouldn't be able to go to the Gathering when one of my carers, Claire, said that the company she worked for, Barchester, had a van, which they used for taking disabled people out and that sometimes she would drive it. All I had to do was book it and she would drive me there.

This I did and so it was on the day arranged she came round. Three of us would go Claire, Renee and myself. We studied the directions given to us on the web site and set off. The road we took was narrow and as we continued on our way it got steadily narrower so that if we had met a car coming in the opposite direction we would have found it very difficult to get past. The next thing the road turned into a dirt track and we began to wonder if we were going in the right direction. We spotted somebody with long hair walking towards us and asked, "Is this the way to the Gathering?" He replied to our question with an American accent in the affirmative.

Now we traveled on more hopefully but were soon worried again when we had to open a gate if we wished to continue. A little later we had to open another and the track became very similar to a motorcross course. I was thankful to be securely tied into the wheelchair as we started to get buffeted around by the contours of the road. Claire behaved above and beyond the call of duty but in the end even she had to admit defeat.

I left the vehicle and attempted to get further in my Power chair and we then came across a little encampment that was populated by a group of 'alternatives'. A lot were of a similar age to me, 56 years old, and some of the blokes looked as if they had been growing their hair since the 1960s!

The encampment consisted of several tents with a tepee in the middle. We asked if they knew where Jacqueline and the children were. We were told they were probably in the children's area a couple of fields away. The ground was too uneven and there was no way I could drive the Power chair any further so they said, "We will get some volunteers and carry you." Apparently the previous week there had been a girl in a wheelchair and she had been in a much worse state than I. "She could only move her eyes and we managed to get her there. She stayed for two nights as well." After hearing that I thought I would have to go on. After coming so far I wasn't going to give in with a few hundred yards to go!

So I was busy psyching myself up when an Italian girl who had remained quiet in the background while the boys decided what to do said, "Why don't we bring Jacqueline and the children over to you instead of carrying you to Jacqueline?" What a good idea. If Mohammed can't get to the mountain why not bring the mountain to Mohammed?

Jacqueline and the children arrived with their faces painted. They gave me a hug and a love because I had managed to make it. They sat on the floor around me and we talked of our adventures. The weather up until this point had been nice but suddenly rain started to fall and my power chair burst into action. I headed through the door of the tepee forgetting that I had my hat on and I almost knocked it off as well as my head! I was distracted by what was going on in the head department and I almost drove into the fire in the middle of the tepee. Luckily I stopped just in time but at least I was now somewhere dry.

There were a lot of us sheltering and one of our number, a Taiwanese girl brought out some fruit and nuts, placed them in a bowl and passed them round. When they were eaten Renee got out a bag of mixed nuts and placed them in the bowl and it was passed round again. When they had all gone to girl placed something that she called Energy Balls in the bowl and the procedure was repeated. There is something very basic about sharing food and I just felt happy about being involved in this circle.

The girl with the Energy Balls then passed around some leaflets explaining what the Rainbow Gathering was all about.

"We are all facets of the same Consciousness. We gather to heal ourselves. We gather to share and we gather to care. To open our Hearts and rekindled the flame of the highest Good, LOVE."

When the world is in such a mess it was just beautiful to be amongst such beautiful people.

When I first started to write for New Pathways magazine I described myself as an unreformed ageing hippie. The first story I wrote was called the BOOK and in this story I did mention about a book by Alan Watts in which he says we are all One. We are all God and what we do is spend our time playing hide and seek with each other. I truly believe this and that is why I mentioned about it in the story. I know that it has been a comfort to me as my body has deteriorated. The people at this Gathering not only believe this but they also live it. I have believed it but up until now have felt fragmented because you have to know others who think the same way. I feel that I have now connected with the tribe.

All too soon it was time to go home but this isn't the end of the story next week I am going to go and stay a few days at the camp. We have bought a couple of sleeping bags and Claire has lent us a tent. There will be thousands of people to care for me and they will carry me over the last few fields to the center of the camp. I think I fancy being carried feet first!

When I had gone to the Rainbow Gathering I had been so impressed by the caring sharing nature of those present that I decided that somehow I would spend at least one night at the encampment. So for next week I arranged for Claire to drive me to there again.

I thought it would be better if I brought the manual wheelchair because if I wanted to go on to the main camp it would be possible to carry me and the wheelchair places I couldn't reach in the power chair.

When we arrived we were greeted like long lost friends and Renee started to put up the tent. She was helped in this venture by somebody who knew about tents and this job was done inside 15 minutes. While this was happening I was left close to the tepee where I socialized.

You aren't supposed to bring any electrical equipment but that doesn't prevent people making acoustic music, there were plenty of musicians about and they gave us a wonderful free concert. We were then treated to something called Capoeira. An instrument that looks very much like a bow from a bow and arrow is played with the bow string being hit rhythmically, and while this is going on people dance in the middle. It is a strange dance and is really a form of martial art. The dancers get into pairs and then they do various gymnastic feats in an attempt to make the other person over balance without touching them. They use feints, sweeps, kicks and all kinds of subterfuge. They even sometimes stand on their head or hands in an attempt to surprise the other. Everybody had great fun and I found it very entertaining.

Then there was the cry "Food Circle". Everybody joined hands and formed a circle. I was pushed in my wheelchair so that I was part of the Circle and they sang a song;

"We are circling circling together.
We are singing singing our heart song.
This is family.
This is unity.
This is celebration.
This is Sacred."

In the middle were two big cooking pots and we all filled our bowls with food. When we had eaten some of the Gathering started to dance around the Circle carrying the Magic Hat and there was a collection. Anybody who couldn't afford it didn't have to pay. I'm like Her Majesty the Queen I don't have any pockets so I couldn't put any money in! Don't worry by this time Renee had come back and put some in for me! After that there was more music and a good time was had by all.

When it started to go dark I thought it best to find out my sleeping arrangements. I am not very mobile and have to be hoisted out of bed every morning. Now I would have to somehow make my way to my tent and then get into a sleeping bag. I let it be known that I wished to go to bed and right away two people came to my assistance. It would be difficult for me to be transported to the tent across the uneven ground. When I mentioned this one of the two, Colin told me, "I'm a market gardener and I'm used to carting around bags of spuds so this will be easy." He then proceeded to push my wheelchair 'wheelie fashion' to the tent, what a trip!

We got there really quickly, but now how was I to get into the tent and then the sleeping bag? Colin was unfazed and told me, "This man," referring to the Israeli man with him, "He climbs pine trees and tells me you have to be really strong to do that so there should be no problem." It was very awkward to get me into the tent from the wheelchair. The sleeping bag was pointing with the feet towards the entrance so they things to me up carried me limbo fashion into the tent head first.

They were very gentle with me. They handled me as they would a baby. The Israeli guy carried me backwards and I finished up falling on top of him. We had been laughing before but after that we just dissolved into fits of laughter! When I am away from home I use a Convene and it was impractical to have a night bag in the sleeping bag so I continued to use the Day bag. I just managed to last until the morning without having the bag emptied. I slept on an air bed and had one of the best night's sleep I've had in long time.

At about nine o'clock the next morning I decided it was time to leave the tent. Renee worried whether I would be able to get out or not but she needn't have. As soon as she left the tent to look for help she met another Israeli guy we had met the night before and when informed of the problem he sprang into action. Somebody from Germany happened to be passing and he was summoned. They devised a wonderful plan for getting me out of the tent. They pulled the air bed out with me on it. So within two minutes of me thinking that I?d like to get up I was sat in my wheelchair outside the tent!

Renee had things to do so she left me in the group. Everybody was really pleased to see somebody in a wheelchair at the Gathering. One guy, I think he was French asked me if it would be all right to take my photograph. "I have a friend with MS and he has never been to a Rainbow Gathering. He would really like to but he feels scared. If I show him a photograph of you he will realize that it is possible."

There are no leaders but there are some who obviously have been to several Rainbow Gatherings. I told them I was sure that many disabled people would love to experience what I have experienced and asked if it would be possible to make the Gatherings more disabled friendly. 'Sh*t Pits', as they are called, are definitely unfriendly to disabled people! There would have to be some sort of disabled toilets to help to make things a little easier.

In the spectrum of disability I think that I am closer to the very disabled than most and I coped so it is possible. The food they provide definitely helps to keep you 'regular' though, and by the end of the second day I had to go!

Peace and Love Everybody.

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I haven't figured out how to put photographs with the story so all the photographs to do this story in amongst my photographs.

A little while ago Helen from the MSRC got in touch. She told me that Yorkshire Television was looking for somebody with MS who used cannabis to help alleviate their symptoms. She knew that I used cannabis and wondered if I would be prepared to talk about it on television. I didn't give her my answer right away. I like a quiet life and have no wish to become a martyr but after thinking about it for a while decided that on balance I should do it. What swayed me I will go into later but first let me tell you about what happened with the television people.

I was given the name of a lady at the TV station and we talked together by telephone. She sounded really enthusiastic and promised to get in touch again soon. The next day though she phoned telling me I lived too far away and they needed someone who lived closer. I was a little disappointed after psyching myself up but shrugged my shoulders and thought maybe it's for the best.

About a week later she phoned again to ask if I would do it. When I answered in the affirmative she asked, "Would it be possible for you do it today?" I said of course I would. It wasn't as if my diary was full.

The television crew arrived about three o'clock that afternoon. There was a cameraman, a soundman and the interviewer. They asked if I was prepared to smoke cannabis in front of the camera. I agreed to do it, why not? Looking back, perhaps it would've been better if we had got the interview in the first. The cameraman couldn't get the shot of me smoking my pipe quite right and we had to do the scene about six times before he was satisfied. I got ever so stoned!

I told them that I eat cannabis chocolate just prior to my going to bed because my legs could get very jumpy otherwise. They were extremely interested in the chocolate and wanted to know the
recipe.

I will give you the recipe now.

I use only the best ingredients; first you melt three large bars of Green and Blacks Organic Dark Chocolate then you grate a quarter ounce of pollen, into the melted chocolate. Pollen is usually pure and easy to grate, none of your soap bar rubbish! That usually does me for quite a long time.

I keep a supply of this most delicious confectionary by my bed rather than my little pipe because if my legs do get bad during the night smoking in bed is a no-no. I wouldn't like to burn the house down! One of them, I won't say which, had a little nibble and everybody seemed to be in a good mood, with all the passive smoking.

The interviewer was obviously very experienced when it came to making you feel relaxed, there again by the time of the interview I was very relaxed already! His first question was

"How long have you smoked cannabis?"

"I have smoked it for 37 years and I'm still looking for the side effects. There aren't many drugs that you get from the chemist you can say that about."

He asked me whether I thought cannabis should be legalized. I replied that it was only an accident of history it is illegal today. When asked what I meant by that I told him, "If Walter Raleigh had brought back the right stuff the world would be a better place!"

The programme itself, for me, was a bit of a disappointment. It was called Sunday Soapbox and was half an hour long but the section about cannabis only lasted 15 minutes. The format was that interested parties would give their view on the legalization of cannabis and afterwards three MPs from the main parties discussed what had gone before.

There were five interested parties;

A policeman who just basically explained what the present law was concerning cannabis.

A lecturer who was an expert in addictions and he told us that if cannabis wasn't about the cases of schizophrenia would go down by 14%.

Somebody addicted to heroin who swore that he started out with cannabis. In my opinion he might as well have said, "I started out with a glass of beer or even a glass of water!" There are some people who have addictive personalities and they will always want to go for a greater buzz. I have never at any time had a wish to take anything like heroin.

I tell a lie actually; smoking dope can lead onto harder drugs. Smoking joints led me on to tobacco and I spent more than 20 years trying to kick that diabolical habit.

On the other side of the argument was a guy who sold cannabis related products at a market stall and me. We got about five minutes between us and the MPs spent the next 10 minutes talking about what we had said. I must have got about 30 seconds. At least they left my Walter Raleigh line in. I was pleased about that.

Why was I persuaded to put my head above the parapet? I have a particularly nasty disease. I am in a wheelchair permanently and the only reason I'm able to write this is because I use voice recognition technology. The medical profession hasn't come up with a cure and there doesn't appear as though there is one on the horizon. A bit of pot makes me feel better about my situation and for that reason I will continue to use it. It will not help everybody but I feel that everyone in our situation should be given a chance to use whatever they believe helps them.

I'm not worried about anything the police can do to me. If they fine me I won't pay it and then what? Will they lock me up? I don't think so. I need a carer every morning. Anyway, apart from the odd trip to the dentist you could say I am under house arrest already. I find it really bizarre that it is possible to get seriously addictive drugs like opiates and tranquilizers on prescription while at the same time it is impossible to get cannabis.

How can I accept things the way they are? There is something wrong when a politician be able to say I can't have something I know makes me feel better about the world I have to live in. At the moment we appear to be in limbo. Maybe this will help to get things moving again.

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In the UK last summer the temperatures reached unprecedented heights. I myself can only recollect one summer, 1976, that could possibly compare but there was something I found rather odd about last summer and that was the absence of flies. What was the reason for this? I don't know, pesticides possibly, but it was definitely strange. When I consider the subject more deeply I realize that it couldn't have been pesticides because three bees entered the house, all of which I managed to usher safely outside again through the front door.

The scarcity of flies continued until one day in July Freddie the Fly flew into my life. I know it must have been July because I've just had a look at my old emails and see that my friend, Julia, sent a message from work on August 2nd enquiring on Freddie's health. So by that date she must have already been around long enough to acquire a name. I say she because I always thought of her as female. She was such a delicate, civilized fly and didn't show any of those nasty he-fly traits like continually buzzing your ear holes and that sort of thing.

I first became aware of Freddie while I was exercising one night in the bedroom prior to going off to sleep. Because the weather was so hot I wasn't wearing a great deal and she obviously couldn't resist the vast expanse of exposed flesh. I tried to swat her but she was invariably that little bit too fast for me. Eventually I hit on the idea of turning off the bedroom light going through to the living room then turning on the living room light. Next I waited for Freddie to make her way through to the lighted room before closing the door behind her. I was quite pleased with myself for thinking of such a plan. No fly was going to get the better of me!

When I got up the next morning I found Freddie sitting on the table tapping her feet in an agitated manner obviously not best pleased about being duped the night before.
She was still in the house the next day and the next and slowly but surely she started to wheedle her way into my affections. She began by alighting on my hand kestrel-style then tried to communicate by the use of semaphore, rubbing her little legs together. At this sight my heart started to melt and from that moment on it became impossible for me to give her the rolled up newspaper treatment!

I decided instead to attempt to evict Freddie rather than flatten her and tried opening the front door inviting her to leave. She refused to go! Thinking back I shouldn't have been so surprised at this. As flies go Freddie was intelligent and must have known that it's a tough old world out there. She came to the conclusion that on balance it would be safer to take her chances with the spider under the stairs and a big softy like me.

Freddie liked music and was particularly keen on reggae. When I played my King Tubby CD, she would perch herself on the speaker and derived great pleasure from getting buffeted about by the bass while hanging on for dear life. It must have been the fly equivalent of a roller coaster ride.
When friends came round I would tell them, "Don't swat the fly, she's a pet who goes by the name of Freddie." Soon when they arrived they would ask how Freddie was and say hello and goodbye to her. I got the impression though that some people thought that our association was becoming a little unhealthy. Julia was very understanding. She realized from the start it was a purely platonic relationship; that Freddie and I were above all that sort of mucky business. I never let her sleep in my bedroom though, I didn't want people to think I was going completely mad, did I! Really I shouldn't have cared what the world thought, how could the world possibly understand the feelings we had for each other.

One day I came into the living room to find Freddie splashing around in a glass of orange juice. In a flash I scooped her from the glass then laid her on a magazine to dry off. It took several worrying minutes for her to come round but eventually she started to slowly move her legs. She then began to slowly walk around whilst at the same time flexing her wings. She walked faster and faster before majestically taking off and flying to her favourite lampshade. It was a wonderful moment and I must admit there was a tear in my eye. I may have been ecstatic at the time but in view of subsequent events I should have viewed this incident as a warning.

Freddie had been around for at least four weeks when one day I noticed there was an eerie silence in the house. "Freddie, Freddie, Freddie." but there was no buzzed response and I began to worry. When Julia arrived that evening she found me in a state of deep anxiety. When I told her that Freddie was missing she said, "Don't worry, she may have left the house to seek her fortune in the great outdoors." This thought didn't pacify me however and I had a feeling that something terrible had happened.

Julia went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She returned moments later with a cup in her hand and asked, "Is this Freddie?" I peered into the cup and there lying in the remnants of a cold cup of tea that I had thoughtlessly left on the kitchen table the night before was the disheveled body of a fly. It was definitely Freddie even in death she was unmistakable.
I buried her in a plant pot on the kitchen windowsill and placed a marble to mark the spot where she lay. I was racked with guilt and it was the least I could do.

For anyone considering a fly as a future pet option let my experience act as a warning and then Freddie may not have died in vain. A fly can drown in as little as a millimetre of liquid so the next time you have cup of tea please, please remember to 'drink up'.

It is now several months since Freddie flew her last and I am finally beginning to come to terms with what happened. There is a lot of truth in that old adage "time is a great healer." So be careful when you're crossing the road but most of all Be Happy.

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I don't go out much these days but thankfully I have a plentiful supply of love close by. Things could be so much worse. Just as little as 10 years ago things were a lot worse. Hardly anybody had a computer, I know I didn't. I'm a bit of a Luddite when it comes to all this new technology. I think that I can safely say I wouldn't have been getting a computer until about now and that would be only because all my friends had one. Then I became disabled.

That changed everything. A computer became very important to me then. I'm still not right good at it but I muck through. I don't think I could do without my Voice Recognition technology. It's a very good and allows me to write. I enjoy writing. I don't think I could talk into a tape recorder so it's a godsend. Talking onto a piece of paper I can handle that because I can have several stabs at it.

The Internet; isn't it great? We can be in contact with people anywhere in the world. Better still people with MS can communicate, band together, then bond together, we're all in this thing together! If there is anybody out there who doesn't have a computer, please get one. If I can use one anyone can.

Being disabled can be a bit limiting when it comes to storytelling though. I usually have to rely on life coming to me rather than me going out to meet life. That makes it difficult when it comes to writing observational stuff. Recently I became friendly with a fly that came into the house. I tried to immortalize Freddie in one of my stories but maybe the world isn't ready just yet for tales of a doughty little fly battling against the odds in a hostile word. In time maybe, who knows?

I said that usually I have to rely on life coming to me well it did yesterday. The weather men promised us a cold snap and we are certainly getting that. When I come to think of it, it was a strange day all round yesterday from the moment I looked out of the window. It was really odd the sky appeared to have dandruff. There was snow coming down and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, but that wasn't the exciting bit. Yesterday the outside world came into my world big time.

It was just after midday. I had been on my computer for a while and decided I needed a pee. The occupational therapist has told me for years that I transfer all wrong. I turn 180 degrees instead of 90 when it comes to transferring from the wheelchair to the toilet. That's by the way though; my hamstrings have been shortening just lately, too much sitting around but yesterday I was feeling pretty good and think to myself I'll give my them a workout. Using the sink to steady myself [it isn't in the manual] I start to stretch those hamstrings. Relax then stretch again! I'm really getting into this when my legs begin to give way and then in slow motion I start to sink to the floor. Somebody once told me that if you find your self falling to pretend you're drunk and then you won't hurt yourself. I always forget to pretend until after I hit the ground so I'm not sure if it works.

Now I am lying on the floor and begin to mentally check on my various bits to make sure they're all right. After I have gone through everything I decide there is nothing wrong apart from the fact that I can't get up. I have a buzzer which should only be used in an emergency. This seemed to be an emergency to me so I press it. After a little while the words, "Are you all right Mister Gee?" come floating through the ether seance like. I have heard these words so many times before and usually I can shout back, "I'm sorry I pressed the button by accident" and everybody's happy but this time I'm not in that happy situation. I explain that I'm not hurt but I can't get up. He tells me that he'll get somebody to come round in a minute. I understand that when he says "minute" he doesn't actually mean that and it may take several minutes but now I'm happy.

I get myself into a sitting position so I'm more comfortable and look a little dignified for when the ambulance arrives. As I am sitting I start to think because there isn't much else to do in that position, I then begin to worry. The front door is a little stiff and if you aren't used to it you could mistakenly think it locked. What if the ambulance men arrive and break down the door. I wouldn't like Renee to come home to that.

I have a carer who comes to me at dinnertime four days a week. She is due sometime before one o'clock and I hope she arrives before the ambulance does. Chris wins the race and arrives to find me sitting on the floor of the shower. I give her a smile so that she knows I'm not hurt. She asks me if I have pressed my didgeridoo, her name for the buzzer. I tell her Yes. My legs are aching because they are pressing awkwardly against a wall so she adjusts them to relieve the pressure. We then wait.

About five minutes later an ambulance man arrives. I ask him where the second man is. He smiles and says, "The helicopter is on its way." I think to myself Joker! Between the two of them they manage to get me back into the wheelchair. Just then somebody else arrives wearing a crash helmet, it's the helicopter pilot! I don't believe this is really happening but it's true. I had heard the helicopter outside and ask him where he has landed and he tells me in a nearby field.

I was ever so embarrassed about them going to so much trouble just for me but the pilot put my mind at rest then asked me if I fancied a trip to Scarborough! I declined; a pity really because I've always wanted to fly in a helicopter.

Are you all right Mister Gee? I suppose the answer to that question has got to be a resounding "Yes." When the society you live in sends out a helicopter when you just happen to fall on the floor it can't be all that bad!

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