Remember when this blog was about (in)accessibility, travel and life on wheels? It’s kinda morphed into a wedding-planning stress-fest, which still includes all of the above. Stick with me here. In the midst of writing emails, being poked with dress-pins and sometimes sobbing over song choices, I have been doing some work. I’m part of a website start-up which will focus on listing accessible travel accommodation for disabled people, with an opportunity to read/share reviews on such places, book from…
Confession time. When I started this blog, I was angry. Angry about uneven pavements that may or may not have dog-shit on them. Angry about inaccessible buildings and accessible toilets being used as storage cupboards. Because, if you keep a damn fridge in there, it becomes inaccessible. Angry about being called a ‘wheelchair’ on the bus, and always having to say: There’s a person in it, too. I wanted to write about all of that, and my boyfriend and my…
And so, I’ve kinda spent all day looking for wedding shoes. It’s no secret that my original ‘bridal vision’ involved Doc Martens. I got one of those visions after I figured out what exactly a bridal vision was, and I’m still not really sure. Anyway, wedding Docs. Problem is, I don’t really like white. Or flowers. But I saw myself in wedding boots for a few reasons. I need the support, and I can’t wear something that I step out…
Are We There Yet? I can’t say much about my third hair and make-up trial. Because y’know, my future husband reads this blog. But I will say: Jackpot! He’s a lucky man. After I slapped myself in the face with make-up remover, I let him back in the living-room. We were waiting to go to Skye for the week. Off to Dad and Anne’s new house. With a separate suitcase just for books. Dad called and said, ‘I’ll be there…
Disability Humor Life Wedding Planning Writing
The Bridal (Hair) Hump and The Sneezes of Doom
14th January 2013As he pulled me backwards down the ramp and on to the street, the taxi driver asked what I was doing there. On a Monday. In the rain. In Glasgow. ‘Wedding make-up trial.’ ‘Are you going to be a bridesmaid?’ ‘No. I’m the bride.’ ‘Really?’ Yes, really.’ ‘Congratulations!’ ‘Thank you. Have a nice day.’ As I made my way up to Dad and Anne’s flat, I thought about how much I live to surprise people. Not really. Maybe a little.…
