The Long John Silver Sound

I've also just got my new crutches. I already have three. But this is not extravagance, or the early stages of some weird collection fetish.

One I like, aesthetically: it's black, grey aluminium and blue. But it doesn't have a hinged elbow cuff, so  if I want to, say, grab a pint with my right arm, it falls to the floor. And I can't use it to lean on. So, though I like it because it doesn't look so 'medical' (they sell a lot of these colourful ones to skiers who've broken their legs in France, so they don't clash with their Raybans or look out of place with the Nike trainers on the other foot on the way home) I've had to give up on it.

The other two? Well, one is quite old and looks very medical. But it has the more comfortable hand grip. It's getting worn out now; the holes into which the pins fit for adjusting the length are now worn oval, so it clanks as I walk along. It sometimes makes people look up in surprise, subconsciously expecting to see a pirate with an eyepatch and a parrot on his shoulder approaching.

So it has to go.

The other one has developed much the same problem; and, though aesthetically it's a better design,  I've never liked the hand grip anyway. It doesn't seem to fit my hand very well, and my palm gets sore after a while.

So, goodbye.

The other reason for replacing them is that more often, now, I need two even in the flat. And I really came to dislike being out during the last few weeks with a pair that look different and don't match. It's like wearing different shoes on each foot. I was going to say different socks on each foot, but wearing odd socks  can be a kind of specially ironic disabled fashion statement. There was a really neat picture of a Paralympian wheelchair racer's feet taken during the games—one foot clad in pink, the other in yellow. . .

[Photo courtesy of PA and the Guardian; sorry, can't find the name of the photographer for the moment.]

And just look at those wheels! Wow! Oh, sorry 'bout that. Where was I?

Now I have a new pair. Made by the same company in the Midlands as the one with the grip I don't like, but they've improved that since, and it's much more comfortable. But they squeak.

So now, as I approach, I see people look round with a slightly mystified expression as their subconscious tells them to be prepared to be assaulted by a pirate with a mouse on his shoulder . . .

Who said being crippled was easy? You non-disabled folk really don't know the half of it.