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The collected opinions of an august and aristocratic personage who, despite her body having succumbed to the ravages of time, yet retains the keen intellect, mordant wit and utter want of tact for which she was so universally lauded in her younger days. Being of a generation unequal to the mysterious demands of the computing device, Lady Bracknell relies on the good offices of her Editor for assistance with the technological aspects of her journal.

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Location: Bracknell Towers

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Brief, but deeply ironic

I am just back from having an acupuncture treatment.

I waited at the bus stop for the bus home.

The bus arrived.

I waited courteously for the elderly, disabled lady with the walking stick to get off. I was taught from a very early age to let everyone out before trying to get in. (Or off before on, depending on the circumstances.)

I was the only person who did this.

By the time I got on the bus, both of the seats which are labelled as being provided for disabled passengers had been taken. By the severely non-disabled people who were too rude to wait for the other disabled lady to get off.




So. Anyone want to try to sell the merits of the medical model to me right now?



The Editor
PS And now, back to the test-card....

4 Comments:

Blogger Dame Honoria Glossop said...

The buses round here (though few and far between) have magical curative powers. Last time I had to use the bus, 5 priority seats were all taken so I had to stagger down to the back. When we arrived in the town centre all five of those people leaped up from their seats before the bus stopped, then when it drew to a halt, skipped nimbly from the bus and hurried off to do their shopping.
"Hallelujah" I cried merrily without a hint of sarcasm "It's a miracle!"

8:49 pm  
Blogger Lady Bracknell said...

What an inspiring anecdote! I've no doubt you were deeply moved.

9:14 pm  
Anonymous Boogaloo Dude said...

For no explicable reason which I can ascertain, the most consistently courteous sector of the travelling public I have met is on the London Underground.

On my infrequent but regular forays into the capital, I cannot remember the last time I was NOT offered a priority seat on the tube, even at peak times.

If this were the only factor in the decision-making process, based solely on my experiences, I would leave the North West and relocate to London tomorrow.

As it is, I will have to remain here where neither common courtesy, nor disability rights or even the rules of the road appear to have permeated through the thick skulls of the local populace.

(And don't even get me started on town planners...)

8:08 am  
Blogger Katie said...

Dude,

REALLY? Can I employ you to get on the London Underground Victoria Line immediately ahead of me every working morning between about 0830 hrs and 0930 hrs? Because no one EVER gives their seat to me. If you get on ahead of me, a seat will be magically vacated, I can sit in it, and you can get off again.

I'm sure we can come to an arrangement. I can provide you with marmite sandwiches and a bottle of orange juice, for instance.

Perhaps AtW will cover the cost of your assistance.

Oh wait! I hate AtW! They will not cover any of my costs!

I'll share my morning banana with you.

7:16 pm  

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