In my pursuit of a bit of a more normal life and pushing myself I went out on a night out to the pub a couple of weeks ago that would prove to be a much more expensive night than first expected. First off we went down to Barrowlands Park which is next to the Barrowlands ballroom, which is, as far as I'm concerned at least, the premier gig venue in Glasgow. It being an old ballroom from generations previous it has a sprung floor so when you say the concert was bouncing you meaning literally so. Anyway this park has horizontal line after line of a bands name and the date of the gig that was played. I managed a measly 6 (I've been to more but they weren't represented) whereas Claire had something like 17. I felt very impressed.
Anyway, geography dictated that the easiest way for us to get to our pub of choice was to back along Argyle St and up Glassford Street as they are main roads with wide paths for the chair and avoided cobbles. Now even though this was the easiest route Claire did mention that it wasn't very easy on her shoulders, the same complaint that our friend Tim made when he had to push me a fair distance before. So I began to think about things. We had only accepted that wheelchair as a gift because we didn't think we'd be using it for long and so buying a new one seemed excessive. Well now I've come to terms with the fact that things aren't moving so quickly I thought that buying a new chair would not only make it a more pleasurable experience for me (the old stainless steel one was an uncomfortable beast) but also for the person pushing it and having to put it in their car. The stainless steel one was a heavy brute which only folded up and required a big boot.
So the following Saturday when Claire was visiting me at home I set her the task of finding me a decent set of wheels as she seems to have the knack of finding bargains and she came up trumps with this beauty in the sale at Careco
As well as the normal chair I got an extra gel padded seat which is amazing for the comfort stakes. Also in terms of comfort the arms and foot rests are adjustable to get exactly the right position for you. The big wheels have a quick release and so the whole thing has a much smaller footprint and, because it's a lightweight chair I reckon anyone could get it into their car with little effort. I really am so happy with it it beggars belief. It's been out to the hospital already and my Uncle Stephen says that the difference is night and day. I really should have done it ages ago but you just don't think of these things. I'm going out again in a couple of days to Kelvingrove Museum with my Aunt and Uncle so we'll get a full report of how it handles then as that will involve a lot of pushing around. You may note that I have finally got over myself and will now happily accept anyone pushing me.
The expense doesn't end there though. People with a knowledge of that part of Glasgow will know that the route we took goes past the biggest guitar shop in the country and I spied something I've always wanted but never had the money to buy, a steel guitar with resonator. You know the one I mean, the one from the cover of Dire Straits' album Brothers in Arms. Mind you, that was a classic 1938 National guitar which would cost the guts of two grand. For someone with my abilities a copy will do just as fine, especially as that was £500 as it is. The one I picked (see below) is also a semi acoustic so that now means I have an electric, an acoustic and a semi acoustic, so I've got all the boxes ticked.
Look, isn't she a beauty. Yes, it's a she. Of course she is. Nothing with curves like that that can make me swoon could possibly be male.
Now I haven't picked up a guitar in well over 4 years thanks to the discomfort of the PEG tube so I've forgotten all I knew so I'm starting from scratch with online lessons so I don't pick up some of the bad habits I did from teaching myself from the complete Beatles songbook. At my best I am an average guitarist but I am enthusiastically so, which is all that really matters isn't it? I'm starting with the electric as the strings I have on it are a thinner gauge than on either of the acoustics as I need to build the calluses on my fingers again.
Now even though all this spending was embarked upon before we knew this, it has been totally vindicated by the very sad news of the death of my Uncle John, who lived in Perth, Australia. 'There's no pockets on a shroud son' as my wee Granny would say so every time I pick up the guitar I'll think of John.
Now John was my dad's older brother and they were similar in many, many ways. Not all of them were what you could conceivably regard as positives but strangely they made them the men they were. If you could conceive of such a thing John was even more gregarious than Frank (or dad as we occasionally called him) and was never done telling stories, often stealing the limelight and leaving his audience in hysterics. The other thing I'll remember of him was that he was so manic, borne of about forty years of living in Australia and having to get everything out in a quick phone call, so what you would get was this amazing stream-of-consciousness garble with the occasional pause for you to say something, if you were quick enough.
My younger sister Janine is heartbroken. She had gone to Australia a good few years ago to stay with John and Anne and they have been regular correspondents ever since. Even talking about all his genuine good points led to the tears coming when I spoke with her about him. My dad's remaining siblings seem to be very practically going about things as far as I can see but I know they're utterly devastated. Stephen said to me that he doesn't have any big brothers any more which was hard to hear. I'll see how Aunt Bernadette is on Thursday on our trip to Kelvingrove and she can fill me in on how Geraldine is and I'll see how wee Aunt Patsy is on Saturday when one of my cousins wants us to meet at her house to release balloons in John's memory as that is what his grandchildren in Australia are doing. We are then going for a meal which fits in with my getting out more program too.
RIP John - I wish I'd known you more than I did.
