Adventures with half an eye

Adventures with half an eye

Saturday June 27, 2015:

I hate it when facebook eats my words! I have just written a piece about Pride and without a “by your leave” or even an “up yours, you prosy old dyke”, it sodding well gone all silent and consumed my wise outpourings. Hurrumph!

So you’re not going to hear about the adventures of my pride pal & I, only half an eye between the two of us. Lost is the description of our two person accapella version of Baker Street, (with me on mouth sax). Never to be heard are our adventures with densely unobservant and mainly oddly dressed, other street inhabitants, also bent on being at Pride.

Sorry but, the malapropisms of Siri, as I attempt to text friends to explain where we are, are lost too. the world will not hear of the weirdness we find in realising that some stewards are ablist fools, who believe us when we say, we’re loitering inside the barrier somewhere around Piccadilly because our wheelchair using companion’s motor is very tired and needs a rest and as she’s acting as our eyes “we’re blind you know” non of us can move right now.

No, all the delights of the commercially driven, capitalist Pride bonanza, unreconstructed ableism of some pride goers, the “aw poor things” patronage of others, will never be told. Oh and neither will it be heard that, despite all this, nothing, but nothing will stop me and other disabled people getting out on the street, this one day of the year and confounding the belief that we don’t exist, by being visibly, proudly, cheerfully, triumphantly & defiantly disabled lesbians, so there, nur!