Here she is at Euston station, our disabled great-niece, fresh off the Manchester train, happy and cheerful as always. We go straight to the taxi drop-off area where the black cabs drop off, and, sometimes, pick up disabled people. We are met by a helpful guy – part of the team at Euston who are there to give assistance to people who need it. A taxi stops and drops off and the helpful guy asks him if he will take us. The taxi driver sees the wheelchair, shakes his head and drives off. Now I’ve found on previous visits that Vicky’s wheelchair normally brings out the best in people, but clearly there are some exceptions. It really annoys the helpful guy – he tells us we should take the taxi’s number and complain to Transport for London. He says he could have his licence taken away for refusing to take us.
Anyway, the next taxi that comes along has a more caring driver. He pulls out the hidden ramp – apparently a standard fitting on all black cabs – and Vicky drives into the cab. We squeeze in beside her and we are off to Victoria.
The Premier Inn in Victoria has several steps up to the entrance. Yes, there’s a convenient wheelchair lift, but not one heavy-duty enough to take Vicky’s chair – the wheelchair equivalent of the Chieftain Tank. Fortunately there’s another very helpful person to hand – the nice lady at the hotel reception. She comes out to the pavement and removes the half-dozen bins from the caged bin lift in the building’s lightwell. Vicky drives onto the lift and is lowered down to the basement. In the basement she is guided through the hotel’s kitchen and taken to the internal lift up to her room on the ground floor. She gets to see parts of the hotel normally hidden from view.
Vicky’s room is large, plenty of floor space to manoeuvre her tank, and kitted out with everything needed for disabled living.
We have arranged to meet Brad and Savannah in Battersea Park so we’re soon taking Vicky on her escape route – down to the hotel basement, through the kitchen, out into the lightwell, onto the bin lift and up to pavement level. The lovely lady at reception then moves all the bins back from the pavement and onto the bin lift. Meanwhile we are on our way along Buckingham Palace Road, over Chelsea Bridge, and into Battersea Park. It’s perfect timing – Brad and Savannah are just arriving at the other side of the park so we walk towards them and meet halfway – close to the magnificent London Peace Pagoda.
We’re feeling a bit peckish so we walk across the park for hot dogs at the ‘All Weather Pitch Café’ which has a lovely Giant Umbrella. Looks very sturdy too, could be from M&D Gee.
Next to the café is the most amazing adventure park we’ve ever seen – zip wires, high rope walks, a very big slide built into a multi-story kiddy-house, and mini-trampolines built into the ground. They have the lot here. All well looked-after, in good condition, and not a trace of graffiti. Savannah tries out all the types of swings, running from one excitement to another.
We eventually persuade Savannah that it’s time to move on and we head back towards Chelsea bridge and Battersea Power Station. By the time we get there the hot dogs have been fully digested and we are ready for a top-up. At the Power Station we all pile in to the first restaurant we find – Gordon Ramsey’s ‘Street Pizza’ restaurant. It’s bar-type deco, trendy and relaxing with energising vibes. They call it ‘pizza without rules. Brash, fun, delicious, irreverent, democratic – we take our pizza very seriously but never ourselves.’ It’s a pizza restaurant with a difference:- for £20 you get a continuous supply of a variety of pizza slices delivered to the table for as long as your appetite lasts – ‘bottomless’ pizzas they call it, and they’re not talking about the pizza bases. They taste good too.
With appetites replenished, Brad and Savannah head for Earls Court, and we head for the Premier Inn with Vicky. Another very helpful guy at reception moves the bins onto the pavement, lowers Vicky down to the basement, through the kitchen and up to her bedroom. We are all ready for a rest by this time so we say goodnight to Vicky and take the District Line to Earls Court. Savannah likes our little London house and asked to stay the night. Brad likes it too – including the conveniences of a pint round the corner and a lamb shawarma from the Lebanese restaurant in the next street.
Savannah starts her day at 5:15 so we are all up and they are motoring back to Cranleigh before the rest of London is moving.
We have arranged to meet Vicky back at the hotel at 10:30. The nice lady at reception tells us that Vicky was in breakfast very early, and she’s ready and waiting when we go to her room. It’s down to the basement, through the kitchen, a short wait while they move the dustbins…..I think you know the routine by now.
This morning we are meeting up with Dan and Sheena. Vicky has been really keen to see everyone – she hasn’t seen them for some time. We meet Dan on Buckingham Palace Road and walk towards the palace and St James’ Park. It’s another lovely sunny day and the area around the palace is teaming with visitors. It’s good to see that London is busy with tourists and that our Royal Family is still fascinating the world. We, and the crowds, continue into St James’ park. There’s a good selection of nature and wildlife on show here, the squirrels and the pelicans on the lake are trying particularly hard to entertain the tourists. Sheena joins us in the park and we head back to Victoria for an early lunch.
Victoria is buzzy and there’s a great choice of places to eat. Sheena has recommended ‘Nova’ in a pedestrianised precinct off Victoria Street, where we have a tasty lunch in the sunny outdoors. After lunch, we say goodbye to Dan and Sheena and walk the short distance to the Victoria Palace Theatre to see the musical ‘Hamilton’.
Vicky is an authority on Hamilton. She prepares us by telling us the complete Hamilton story and she knows pretty much all the words of the songs and their relationship to the story. She has wanted to see it in the theatre for a long time and the performance today is a very special one for her. Her hero in Hamilton is Leslie Odom Jr who played Aaron Burr in the original Hamilton on Broadway. This portrayal earned him a Tony Award for Best Actor in a Musical. And now he is playing Burr again in London for a short visit which ends today.
Vicky wants to try and catch him at the stage door after the show. A few hundred other fans have beaten us to the queue but the friendly queue controller let’s Vicky in at the front. Meanwhile Margaret and I head for a glass of wine at the trendy bar across the street where there’s a band playing and everyone’s dancing even at this time of the day. With one notable exception (but that’s another story) I think it’s the most expensive glass of wine I’ve ever bought. We sit with our wine on the terrace and watch the comings and goings of the Stage Door. The fans seem to quickly distinguish between the stage hands, being sent out for takeaway pizzas before the evening performance, and the true celebrities. We can only tell from the volume of the cheering.
Eventually Vicky emerges from the melee looking very pleased. She shows off her photo with Leslei Odom and his signature on her program. The day has been a dream come true for her and it’s not over yet! She wraps up the day with a tasty Chicken Ramen at the terrace of the Victoria Wagamama. A short walk to her hotel followed by the usual tour of the bin lift, the lightwell, and the basement kitchen, and to bed.
Everything had been going so well for Vicky’s weekend but a phone call the next morning reminds us that we should count our blessings. Vicky tells us that her all-electric high-powered wheelchair has lost its power and won’t budge. She’s been trying to phone for help but can’t raise anyone. She’s even pulled the emergency cord in her bathroom but no-one responds. She’s finally pulled it so hard that it has broken. We jump on the District Line and head for Victoria.
I have a key to her room and find Vicky on the floor of the bathroom. She’s OK, but she can only get around by sliding herself around on the floor. Her wheelchair, so cleverly manoeuvrable when it has power – so stubbornly immobile and heavy to push when it hasn’t. Vicky is still trying to phone for assistance but it’s Sunday and hard to raise anyone. She hasn’t been able to go down to breakfast so I go and grab her bacon and sausage to keep her well-nourished. I am trying to find somewhere to hire a wheelchair from to get her back to Manchester. She needs to get back today because she is on her final day’s supply of medicines.
There are lots of places in London claiming to be able to assist with wheelchairs, but there’s the same response from every one: “Our opening hours are Monday to Friday……….”. Eventually I find a very helpful family business called ‘Chelsea Wheelchair Hire’. (I know they’re a nice family business because there’s a baby crying in the background.) They have a wheelchair available and they can get it to us within an hour or so. They are just a bit worried about how we are going to get it back from Manchester for them. I’m worried about that bit too but the offer of a refundable deposit to cover the cost of the wheelchair clinches the deal. (I’m assuming they can get it to us quickly because they are just in Chelsea but James – the husband of the partnership – later tells me that when they set up the business the choice of business name was between his name: ‘James Wheelchair Hire’ and his wife Chelsea’s ‘Chelsea Wheelchair Hire’. There was no competition he tells me.)
Meanwhile Vicky has managed to contact her insurance company who eventually agree to get her and the wheelchair back home and they will come to the hotel shortly. So I phone Chelsea Hire and cancel. They are very nice about it.
It turns out that the ‘insurance guys’ is a one-man taxi driver who has a contract with the insurance company to rescue broken down wheelchairs and riders. He is Paul, a genuine original east-ender black cab driver of the best sort. He’s very helpful and doesn’t mind how helpful we need him to be because he’s being paid by the hour by the insurance company. It’s much better business, he admits, than hanging around London streets waiting for a fare.
We’ve now thought through the details of the upcoming operation and realised that we are going to need to hire a wheelchair after all, just to get Vicky out of the hotel. So I phone Chelsea Hire again to re-instate our order, but now for one day only. They are friendly and accommodating – as always – and promise to get the chair to us quickly.
Paul and I have a good chat on the pavement outside the hotel while we wait for the delivery. Chelsea tells us the delivery man is just coming down Park Lane so should be with us soon. What she doesn’t tell us is that it’s being delivered by bike, so we have to wait a while, expecting every car we see to stop and take a wheelchair out of the boot.
When the biker finally arrives with the chair we get it up to Vicky’s room. Vicky transfers herself from broken chair to the new chair, which is light enough to be taken down to the pavement on the normal chair lift. With some effort we also get her broken chair onto the lift and down to the pavement. Vicky transfers from new chair back to broken chair on the pavement and then, the biggest effort of the whole operation, Paul and I push chair and Vicky up the ramp and into the cab. The new chair goes into the hotel for storage until picked up by Chelsea’s man-on-bike, and Margaret and I squeeze into the cab.
From then on, thanks to the helpful guys at Euston and Manchester stations, all goes well for Vicky and she has stories of the weekend to tell her friends in the hospice, and the photo of her with Leslie Odom to treasure.
It’s been a good weekend for us also. Vicky is surely one of the most positive and inspirational people we know and it’s both an honour and a pleasure to have spent time with her again.