22 July 2010

Today I go for my quarterly assessment, with my MND team, at Addenbrookes hospital. As in my normal practice I have made a list of matters to discuss with Dr Chris Allen. As usual I will press him, against his better judgement, to try to give me some prognosis as to when I’m likely to use lose the use of my arms, legs etc. I’m also extremely interested in his reaction to the recent lung tests carried out at Papworth Hospital, particularly as I am about to fly to Sweden and am not that keen to ask the airline to lay on emergency oxygen as suggested by them.

One issue about which I am curious is that the majority of MND patients complain that their principal symptom is fatigue. I usually have my first cup of tea and around 6 a.m. and am up and in the office no later than 8.30 where I stay until 6 p.m, with a couple of hours for lunch. I can’t say that I personally feel particularly fatigued by this, certainly no more than the average 76-year-old. For example, I recently spent four days at Lord’s, (for my overseas readers may not know this . Lord’s is the world famous cricket ground)  leaving home at 8.30 and back around 7 p.m.. I spent the whole day obviously watching cricket, whilst talking and engaging in the very exhausting process of drinking champagne and eating. Not on any of these four days  did I have a rest and yet I did not feel particularly ‘done in’ when I returned home. Ironically, long before I was diagnosed with MND, if it was a hot sunny afternoon at Lord’s, rumour has it that after a particularly good lunch I would nod off for the odd half hour! Every morning, as part of my daily diet I take a Berroca  tablet, a mixture of vitamins and minerals etc, which is supposed to give you energy. I wonder if this is the answer in my case?

I heard recently from a fellow MND sufferer that he has had a tube inserted into his stomach so that he can be fed twice a day. He also mentioned one of his favourite sandwiches and this prompted me to ask him how he reconciled these two conflicting ways of being fed. He told me that he could still chew and swallow but it was a very slow and painful process so basically he relied on the feeding tube to sustain life. I also heard yesterday from a distant relative, whose sister is also an MND sufferer. In her case she has decided to cut down eating and drinking and to ‘slip away’ that way. I can’t help feeling that this is the bravest and kindest way to go, having said goodbye to all your friends and relatives. However, I would be curious to know how common this is as a preferred choice to end things. I would have thought that once one has  overcome the initial hunger pangs then it was a very peaceful way to go.

One issue that I’m going to raise with Dr Alan is the question of  neurone stem cell research. I read something about it recently which showed promise and I wonder why we don’t hear more about it. I would certainly offer myself as a guinea pig if given the chance.

Whilst I am at Addenbrookes hospital I have been booked in for a bone density scan, presumably because my leg broke fairly easily when I fell off the train recently. In any event, whatever the result I don’t believe it’s very serious. Probably just a matter of taking some calcium on a daily basis. I certainly don’t want too many alarms today as it is now only just over a week before I go off to Sweden with the good doctor Long.

Some time ago, the MND Association, through their associated organisation AbilityNet, very kindly provided me with an E-reader. Up to now I have not used it as I have struggled along with a book on a book rest, with the pages being held back with elastic bands, but now the whole process of reading has become virtually impossible. I simply cannot handle the book or turn the pages. I then resorted to the E- reader but even this, I found, was not that easy to use, as with two pretty useless hands I could not really press the buttons to select the book and turn the pages etc. As a result I have asked the MND Association if I could have an iPad which is very easy to use. You can turn the page by dragging your useless hand across the touch screen, or, at worst, having say a mouse pointer strapped to your chin to achieve the same objective. The doctor has to fill in a form for the MND Association and we will see how it goes from there.

In the event, the assessment was taken by the team administrator Shelgah Smith with the OT and physio  in attendance. Although we discussed the issues which I had listed, at the end of the day Shelagh had little choice but to fall back on the standard response that every MND patient is different and they have absolutely no idea how fast one will go downhill or in what direction. She observed a change in my posture which demonstrated the weakness of my legs and increasing difficulties to balance. I mentioned the deterioration in my hands and how occasionally the right arm locks rigid. (This can cause some problems when you are eating, particularly for the person on your right, who might well end up with a spoonful of food in his lap!) I also noticed this morning, for the first time, that when shaving with my electric razor,  in the purpose made pouch strapped to my right hand, whilst lying flat on my back in bed, that my left arm suddenly refused to straighten at all. Both of these symptoms must mean that I am experiencing an increase in spasticity. I can still wipe my nose by holding the handkerchief between my clenched fists. I can clean my teeth with my electric toothbrush because my fingers curl naturally around the holder and for the same reason I can still feed myself as the spoon fits neatly into my curled fingers. I can still curl all the fingers on my right hand towards the palm but with little strength, and the three last fingers on my left hand, although they are both are gradually curling inwards, the condition being exacerbated by Dubitrons syndrome, with the left hand being far worse than the right . However, many actions with my arms require me to fling them towards my head rather than raising them in a normal way.

There’s not much I can do about exercising my hands but I do have them massaged  once a week and the fluid moved up and away from the hand. Each arm is then stretched toward the ceiling to loosen the  shoulder joint.

The reader will recall that I started the day with exercises in bed. The pelvic floor exercises (necessary because of my  artificial urinary sphincter — see earlier entry); the diaphragm exercises, to which I have added leg exercises tensioning and clenching the thigh muscles; raising my head and leg together in tension and holding each for five seconds, alternately, repeated five times and then finally resting one leg on the other straightening and holding it in position for five seconds, again repeated 10 times each leg. I finish stretching each arm, alternately, towards the ceiling and circling 10 times clockwise and 10 times anticlockwise before resting. This, I repeat, five times with each arm. Frankly, I have no idea whether any of this is doing any good but I work on the principle that they can’t be doing me any harm and, who knows it might just be extending the life of some of these muscles.

Sadly, there is no neurone stem cell research being carried on at Addenbrookes. In fact, Shelagh thought that the only research on it was being done in Edinburgh and this not yet on humans -so not much hope there. The bone density scan was quick and painless — results in four weeks time.

19 July 2010

My good friend, Rowan Planterose, drove all the way from Sussex today to give me lunch The Cricketers. Rowan, an erstwhile barrister turned solicitor, is a partner in Davies Arnold Cooper. I have known him for 25 years or so and we have done some fun things together. For example, we did the fictitious cross examination in my most successful book, The Sanctuary House Case, which proved to be very convincing.

We also work together, and he performed, in The Fission Chip Case, a legal training ‘play’ I wrote with Karyl Nairn and the input from a number of other legal friends.

This ‘play’ , which ran for the entire day, was set in the year 2084 and was a dispute between earthlings  and the inhabitants (Galoos) of a fictitious planet called Pluto -yet to be discovered – that we put on in Cambridge and Budapest. If I say so myself, it was out of this world and went extremely well. I only wish we could perform it again.

Anyway, we had a delicious lunch together in the open air, mulling over old times.

18 July 2010

Having a lifting belt caused me to wonder the other day where the expression ‘belt up’ came from. As we know one of its meaning is ’shut up’. I turned to my Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, but that was no help. The expression has been in use much longer than the introduction of seatbelts, so it can have nothing to do with that. Does anyone know the answer? This musing leads me to repeat something I heard in the early hours on radio four — being an insomniac I listen to the wireless halfway through most nights. I have often wondered where the word ‘pee’ derived, being something that I once took for granted without much thought but now has to be planned. I was not surprised to hear that it is probably a diminutive for ‘piddle’, which is what we know small children, kittens and puppies tend to go in for. However, I was amused to learn that Queen Victoria disapproved of the word and hence the word ‘puddle’ came into being. Complete trivia, but you never know, it might be useful in a pub quiz at some stage.

Anyway I shouldn’t be wasting my time on a Sunday morning writing such nonsense as the Osborne family, Nancy, Brian, Anne and their twins Kate and Tom are due here shortly for lunch. Not much of a day but I hope fine enough for us to play our annual game of croquet. This year I shall have to be more of a pain than ever and supervise all concerned from my wheelchair.

The weather did perk up and indeed was fine enough for us to have our lunch in the garden. In the event, although the croquet equipment was brought out no serious game was played. By the time we had lunch and half the team had visited the food fair in the village hall it was time for tea and a five o’clock farewell. It was great to see the Osborne family again in such good form. Kate and Tom have now left school and face an exciting future. Anne, the eldest, had just returned from a rather smart holiday in the South of France, landing at midnight, she quite sensibly took 40 winks in the sunshine in the afternoon. Mum Nancy then went on with Kate to Aldborough for a little mother/daughter bonding.

17 July 2010

A couple of days ago I heard from Patrick Joyce, the amazing young man with MND, who has adopted the title of The Incurable Optimist, which I must say he truly deserves. My readers may recall me shelter mentioning that this incredible young man earlier in the blog and how he is determined to paint 100 portraits, of who he describes as incurable optimists and for some reason seems to think that I qualify.

Accordingly, he has now started my portrait and this will be shortly available be  online for anyone interested in viewing it. However, I do urge my readers to access Patrick’s site http://patricktheoptimist.org) or his facebook. www.facebook.com/patricktheopimist/, these sites are truly inspirational. I’m sure we will all wish Patrick a long live so that he can complete the hundred portraits that he has set out to achieve. No doubt, shortly I will be able to display a copy of Patrick portrait of me (totally undeserved, however) on this blog. What have I got to complain about?. I just had four fabulous days at Lord’s.

16 July 2010

The cricket season started with a vengeance on Tuesday, at Lord’s, with the first test match of the year.  However, not as one would expect with England playing somebody, but Pakistan playing Australia as  Pakistan is considered to be too dangerous for visiting teams

In fact, I spent the first four days of this test match at Lord’s in excellent company. On the first day my guests were my nephew William (Garton Jones), who stayed the night with us and then drove me to the ground dropping me off at Gate 6, right into the ground, only 50 yards or so from the Warner Stand, where all the VIPs enter. (In fact, past Prime Minister John Major was held up whilst I was transferred from car to wheelchair.)  My other guest was my longest and oldest friend, 92 year old Geoffrey Hanscombe, who was just as entertaining as ever.

Apart from two or three visits to the disabled loo with the assistance of St John Ambulance staff, or one of my strong mates or, Roger & FH, and a couple of visits to sit by the lawn to smoke a small cigar, this was the general pattern over the four days, until I was wheel-chaired back to gate 6 to be driven home by Barry.

On the second day we entertained Jeremy and Susie Brinton from Dubai. Poor Jeremy had only arrived at midnight but, as usual, was full of fun and energy. I thought Susie was looking lovelier than ever, after her second baby, and we had a great day with Roger Goodwin and Paul Newman, both of whom are always good fun.

On the evening of the second day Francis Hector Grand (FH) was to stay with us and drive me in, in the morning. Unfortunately, he got rather tied up at home and did not get to us before 1.00 a.m. by which time I was well tucked up in bed.

However, he was up bright and early the following morning and drove me to Lord’s where we met my second guest, Mark Jenkins (Jenks), who was at school with son Miles. The rest of the gang were absent for some reason but it did not prevent us from enjoying a very pleasant day.

On the fourth day my good friend Dr Julian Critchlow came with Steve Harrison and we were joined by Roger and Jeremy and somehow the day slipped by in a haze of champagne and laughter.

During one of my smoking excursions the weather looked rather threatening so we sheltered  under a tree, where some great flying creature decided to drop his business onto the shoulder of my smart linen jacket. Jeremy was absolutely delighted and declared it to be a sign of good luck and, in my case, would probably add several months to my life. I just hope the old wives tale has some truth in it

The cricket aficionados amongst you might be wondering what was happening all this time out on the cricket square. To be frank, it was a pretty lacklustre game. Pakistan won the toss and decided to put Australia in. After a dramatic start losing Watson for 8.  the Australians got to 172 before losing the next wicket. Then the  wickets tumbled and the day ended with the Australians all out for 253. Pakistan’s batsmen performed poorly and the team were all out for 148 with Shane Watson getting his name on the neutral honours board in the pavilion with 5 wickets for 40. Australia were in again and ended the day on 100 for 4 – a comfortable 205 ahead but apart from Katich who scored 83 (80 in the first innings) and Hilfenhaus’s 53 not out, the rest of the team failed to perform and Australia were all out 334 leaving Pakistan 440 runs to score for an historic victory but with 2 ½. days to achieve it. Pakistan started well enough ending the day at 114 for 1 leaving them two days to score the 326 runs for victory. However it was not to be, and they were all out shortly after lunch on the fourth day giving Australia victory by 150 runs, with a day to spare .

In using members of the St John Ambulance to assist me to, and in,  the disabled loo, we discovered that they had no wheelchair of their own and, in fact, borrowed one from the MCC. Paul proposed that we bought them a new wheelchair as a gift. I took this on board and decided to invite  each of my guests over this cricket season to donate £20 each towards this project which I worked out should be sufficient to pay for a new chair. I’m glad to say that all of my chums enthusiastically donated. The St John Ambulance people do wonderful work, they are all volunteers who give up a great deal of their private time to help others at such events, and seem to receive little thanks, or recognition, for their efforts, so I think this little gesture is the least we can do for them.

12 July 2010

Today I received a savage blow. Yet another milestone in my life is disappearing. After some correspondence with the University in Beijing we have decided that it will not be physically possible for me to go and deliver the lectures, or assist in giving the lectures, this year. Basically, the reason is that the campus is being completely reconstructed and is, in effect,  a building site. I had previously explained to  the University administration that I might need a wheelchair, but they thought that this would be almost impossible to manoeuvre it through the debris and building works.  In any event, probably the most significant problem is that until the new administrative building is completed there is no WC!. The authorities have promised that they would include one in the new building but this will not be ready by October. Even last year I had great trepidation about needing to go (as we say in English)  squatting down over the hole in the ground, which is the Eastern closet, during the lecture day. (As it happened I managed to sort this out in the hotel before I left each morning – one of the joys of being regular!). As it was, in no way, even then, 10 months ago,  could I have managed unassisted, due to my weakened legs. I cannot think of anything more undignified,  even with my dearest friend, the good Dr long, closeted in with me,  hanging on while I did my business. Now, even this will not be possible as once I sink below a certain level I simply collapsed and the whole thing would have been utterly farcical.. (Apologies to all those readers who do not suffer from lavatorial difficulties but after all this blog originally started for the benefit of MND sufferers) Add the fact that the lecture rooms are themselves on the third floor, up four flights of steps, and although I had offered, if necessary, to  be carried up those stairs, I have every sympathy with  the University decision that the whole thing would be just too much, so we have opted for plan B, the lectures this year to be delivered by my successor.

As one might expect the University expressed concern about the condition of my health and made it clear that they did not want me to suffer any inconvenience or injury for which they would feel totally blame worthy. Sadly, I am as certain as I can be that this means  I have given my last lecture in China, as at my current rate of deterioration, albeit reasonably slow, there is no way I believe I will get there next year. Interestingly, however, the University have said that they are considering buying software for remote teaching, so it could mean that next year I may be able to teach the lectures by this advanced technology.

Reading between the lines about the amount of reconstruction being carried out I sensed the University’s reservation as to how I would manage and therefore it was me who took the initiative in suggesting that I fully understood if they considered the whole thing would be too difficult. I think they were heartily relieved at my suggestion that it might be sensible if my successor were to deliver these lectures entirely on his own. The University then very kindly confirmed that they were renewing my Adjunct Professorship. This will enable me  to continue to supervise this course and possibly to mark the examination papers. There was a great sense of relief in a follow-up e-mail received from the University once I had made the decision to step down this year. In saying that my understanding of the University’s standpoint  is highly appreciated the administrator of this course  suggested that I think you may feel how upset I am when I tell you this…

I am recalling your gentleman image… and can also hear your eloquent lectures and your humorous jokes. Actually, I was moved to tears when I read your frank e-mail I think you can tell from these sentiments, how very much I will miss these dear friends.

It will almost certainly the end of the second  source of great pleasure, my visits to the beautiful Anantara at Hua Hin,  Thailand, the invariable stopping off place on the way home from trips to China and Australia (see Video section of this blog.

As I said, at the beginning, this is a very sad day, the end of an era, from which I have derived an enormous amount of pleasure and satisfaction. I have taught over 1000 Chinese lawyers the British way of dispute resolution. I shall miss all the friends that I have made over the years on my visits and the delightful hard-working students, a number of whom continue to keep in touch with me, from time to time..

This is just the sort of thing makes one realise that the end is in sight. First,  my car  disappeared, having being sold  by ’my lovely’ without even I asking me. Of course, she did so in my best interest as she considered I was too dangerous to drive. (I’m sure, on mature reflection, she was right; she usually is! — I was pretty good steering on straight roads but the bends were a bit tricky!) The next thing was me having to sleep downstairs and no longer even to visit the bedroom where I have slept for the last 46 years, in my beautiful four poster bed (admittedly, the decision that I would never be allowed upstairs again was taken after falling backwards downstairs from the top step to the bottom, twice in three days). The next thing to go, I believe, will be my fine  modern snooker table, in order to make more room for wheelchairs and general manoeuvrability.  I had it specially made for my office, 25 odd years ago.. Things are disappearing and my life is inexorably shrinking.

Having said all that, it is, of course, inevitable with MND and I do not want my readers to think that I’m becoming depressed  just understandably increasingly frustrated at not be able to do things that I know, under normal circumstances, I would be perfectly capable of doing!! That’s one of the problems with MND. You’re not physically ill, apart from feeling a little more tired than usual, just basically progressively incapacitated. Having said that I must remember, that this blog is all about Living not Dying, which I have to remind myself when I write this sort of whingeing  entry.

Now for the mundane. My great excitement today was a visit to the Saffron Walden Community Hospital for an x-ray of my ankle, which is still badly swollen but showed no internal damage and then to the dentist for a general scrape round and a hygienist  session.

Nephew, William Garton Jones, came to stay this evening in order to take me to Lord’s tomorrow. I actually knew William before I met ‘my lovely’, as his parents were living in Aden the same time as I was, when Alice came over from Kenya for his christening. I used to meet William’s parents (Mary was her eldest sister) at the officers club, Tarshyne,  in Elephant Bay, where, no doubt, I was introduced to the infant William. The

11 July 2010

A quiet day after yesterday’s excitement. A kind neighbour, Edward Oliver, who has generously helped me over the past two years complete my Tax Return – as I can no longer write –  came round this morning with this year’s submission. It will be interesting to see if there is any comeback from the Inland Revenue concerning the change of emphasis in my work which now includes working on inventions. Having said that there is still the updating of my Magnus Opus, Arbitration Practice and Procedure — Interlocutory and Hearing Problems, currently being worked on (I hope) by Dr Julian Critchlow and Prof. Robert Merkin, in addition, there is my lecturing and  my work in connection with the various branches of The Arbitration Club. So I suppose I can justifiably say that I have not entirely retired from my mainstream occupation, Arbitration.

It would be churlish not to mention that I did take a sneaking look at the final of the football World Cup -in the commercial breaks of the film we were watching  -despite claiming to have no interest in football whatsoever. However, such an event, rather like the opening of the Olympic Games ceremony, is almost mandatory viewing. In the event to me, not being an aficionado of the game, it seemed the unstructured and frankly a little boring.

10 July 2010

A long, lingering, lazy lunch in the garden. Our guests were Julian (Critchlow) — my literary executor, and very good friend, since we were students together at Kings College London, in the late 80s, reading for our Masters degree in Arbitration Law -and his partner Lucy. As I have come to expect from this pair they were good company and the conversation sparkled well into the afternoon when my energy suddenly sagged and they kindly decided it was probably about time to go home.

As luck would have it, it was another exquisitely beautiful, typically English, summer’s day, mercifully free of the plague of thunder bugs from which we have suffered over the last few hot days The icing on the cake was that our near neighbours – albeit 100 and 200 feet away respectively, on two boundaries – with whom we have the very best of relations, were happily elsewhere with all their respective brood, so our peace was not shattered by the ‘ Violet Elizabeth’ screams that seem to be de rigueur when their little darlings are tearing round their respective gardens enjoying themselves. . (For those non-literary readers I should explain that Violet Elizabeth was a friend of William, in the Just William stories, written by the Richmal Crompton, who threatened to ‘ sqeam and sqeam, until she was sick’, if she did not get her own way,) Extraordinarily enough, I discovered a few years ago that a prominent barrister friend of mine -whose name I shall withhold to spare his blushes – had played the role of the young William for the television series, presumably in a 50’s. Following this train of thought,  I also played golf many years ago, indeed with the co-founder of the Themanus Golfing Society (see     entry ) who, in a weak moment, informed me that he was the little blue eyed, curly headed little darling, who appeared on the Pear’s Soap posters. No doubt, the younger generation of readers of this blog  will have no idea what I’m talking about but perhaps one day they may see these posters in a museum and then  understand the reference.. When I knew this ‘little darling’ he was a 6’ 1”, middle-aged gentleman weighing every bit of 15 stone. None of this of course has anything to do with ‘my lovely’s’  lunch but it does make me wonder whether I remembered to mention these two infants in the chapter of my autobiography entitled  The Very Few Famous People I Have Ever Met.

As the average person seems to have a morbid curiosity about food and drink, as is evidenced by the proliferation of cooking programmes on television -which I suspect many people watch whilst they tuck into their takeaway – I will make an exception and say what our simple meal comprised. No starter, but our main course was a bowl of Coronation pasta   generously topped with tiger prawns with a large bowl of mixed salad to accompany it. A large crispy brown wholemeal loaf was available for those who wanted it for their course and the selection of half a dozen cheeses that followed the main course. We then finished with a Waitrose lemon tart smothered in the best English raspberries and cream. On the drink front we washed away the dust of the journey with some champagne and drank, with the meal, a modest sauvignon blanc.. All quite delicious, with the minimum of ‘ pouring over a hot stove’, for ‘my lovely’. A perfect alfresco meal of which, even our erstwhile next-door neighbour, Jamie Oliver, might have approved.

8 July 2010

My second full day in the office since I broke my leg. Good old Duncan (Rix) had kindly been in over the weekend and reorganised all my office equipment so that I can access it from one sitting position. I access the place through the new ramp using my gutter frame and then onto the office chair with the electric ‘UpEasy’ cushion. This works so well that I am able to rise and stand up to grasp my frame and get myself back to the house all without assistance.

Having settled myself down I then realise that I had completely forgotten the telephone number on my second ‘ Livebox’ telephone line -after all it will almost 2 months since I last used it and it was fairly new then. Anyway, this put me in mind of the politically correct description of someone with a short-term memory loss, temporary cognitive impairment. Who on earth dreams these things up, for example, someone who is retiring is about to receive his or her benefit crystallisation. Having lived in Australia for the best part of five years, 50 odd years ago, I got used to people calling a spade, a spade rather than a personal metallic digging implement. This train of thought meant I cannot not resist repeating what a judge said in a recent case where a party is restricted from approbating or reprobating’, which means no more or less, than, blowing hot and cold.

6 July 2010

I decided to brave the rigours of  a train journey to London today — the first since I broke my leg falling off the train at Bishop Stortford in early May.

The occasion was the Arbitration Club lunch, of the Law Court Branch, held at the offices of City lawyers, Speechley Bircham, just off Fetter Lane. Both Peter Beuchel and Clive Freedman happened to be present and looked none worse for their exertion in the Great London Swim Event

One of the members of the club, Keith Kirkwood, who actually lives at Bishop Stortford, very kindly agreed to accompany me or I suppose, more correctly, be entirely responsible for getting me there and back safely, by whatever means. I had originally thought the wheelchair would be the best option but the business of ramps at Audley End Station and again at Liverpool Street and then getting the wheelchair into one of those special taxi’s and out again, not to mention manoeuvring it about within Speechley Bircham’s offices, before repeating the whole process in  reverse on the return journey, was a daunting prospect.. I’ve never tried it and I imagine one has to give prior notice to each station visited and say precisely on which train one is travelling, so that there can be made available. . Bearing all this in mind, I decided I would attempt the whole process with the gutter frame, despite the fact that the new wheels has yet to be fitted and the small plastic wheels, are far from ideal, for external use. However, remembering the marble surface of the Liverpool Street station I relied on the skill of the pavier to have produced a smooth surface for my  walk up from  platform 6  to platform 10, to pick up a taxi.

The transition from home to station and onto the train went smoothly enough. The driver, who observed me climbing into the train on the gutter frame, very kindly left his cab, entered the compartment, where we were sitting, and asked if I would like a mobility wagon when we reached Liverpool Street Station. It was a very nice gesture which I declined as I was curious to see how my legs would hold up on what  would be one of the longest walks I would have taken since the cast was removed. In the event, it was no problem

The first taxi we tried did have a special disability seat but it was not purpose-built and did not swing out over the pavement sufficiently far for me to sit on it comfortably. In any event, I don’t think it had ever been used before as the driver was uncertain how it functioned, and worse than that it did not click into place once I was in the cab, which would have made swinging round corners very precarious for me, so we switched to one of the modern purpose-built disability taxis. Like the train driver before him,  the taxi driver was extremely helpful and pointed out that if I wished he would extend the wheelchair ramp over the pavement and then raise it to allow me to walk into the cab. However, I chose the easier option of the dickie seat swinging out over the pavement.

When we reached the lawyer’s offices we found they had a special wheelchair lift to take us down to the floor below. It was large enough for half a dozen wheelchairs and, no doubt, cost a great deal of money to install, so I believe they were very happy to last have found someone to use it — apparently I was the first.

The rest of the excursion went predictably. A modest lunch and an excellent discussion on arbitral matters before the excitement of the return journey with yet one more twist. The station attendant at Liverpool Street, seeing me struggling with the frame, asked where we were alighting and radioed ahead to Audley End to have us met off the train. Here again I achieved another first (or almost).

Audley End station had recently completed the installation of a very grand new staircase up and over the tracks with a splendid lift  at each end, which, according to the young man who met us, cost several million pounds. This railway employee was proud to announce that I was only the third person to use it. Thank heavens they had had it installed before the current round of austerity cuts had been imposed, as it would certainly have been for the chop and without it I would not have been  able to get off at this station as the stairs would have defeated me. Who would have thought that such a journey will turn into such an adventure!

I must admit I’m very grateful to dear Keith for being such a helpful and thoughtful carer, particularly when I learned that after dropped me off he had to return to London for a meeting. It’s good to know that I can still attend the odd Arbitration Club lunch, at least, for the time being, provided someone like Keith is prepared to come with me.

A red letter day in more sense than one. This blog passed 600,000 hits today