Wheelchair Worries *Puissalicon Edition - The End Has Cometh

Well the time had come. It was time to say farewell to The South of France. It had given so much, a nice place to stay, sun, laughs, relatively decent accessibility, music, a cute dog next door and most importantly great chocolate! No Golden Eagles though. Dad still won't admit that what we saw was a sparrow, I'll just have to take his word for it.

The owners son had told us there wasn't anybody coming in straight after us, so we could take our time leaving. We knew just how long it took to get to the hotel though and wanted to get there in daylight, as driving around Paris at night was a nightmare. 

The weather wasn't very good, in fact it was raining at times. I was glad to be leaving this hell hole to be honest, back to the sunny green hills of ol' blighty. We made it to brit hotel privilège without any hiccups and made it just before we started to lose light. I went upto the room and wanted to turn the heat up as it was quite chilly, but the air con didn't work this time, as I eventually found out. Unfortunately the air con unit was too high for me to read the error code. I had to lift myself up on the arms of the wheelchair. The bed still looked as warm and cozy as last time though, so I didn't think it would be too much problem.

When I got up for breakfast it was raining quite hard and the journey to Le Shuttle was accompanied by the wipers swishing across the windscreen.

On the final leg of the French part of the journey, we started passing a huuuuge convoy of black London cabs, there must have been a hundred of them. There were English ambulances, English police vehiclles and other support vehicles. The convoy wasn't always one car behind another, sometimes there were a few bunched together and then a gap, so this convoy seemed to go on and on. I saw that Magical Taxi Tour was on the side of the taxis, so I Googled it - www.magicaltaxitour.com - It's a charity that provides an annual three-day trip trip of a lifetime to Disney® Paris for over two hundred children suffering from a range of chronic, debilitating illnesses and life-limiting conditions.

They contribute the £1,500 per taxi needed to feed, transport and admit the convoy to Disneyland Paris. The taxi drivers give their time and use of their vehicles for free.  Everyone on the trip is a volunteer.
Source:https://www.magicaltaxitour.com/about_us

It made sense why some of the cabs had kids with huge foam hands waving at us. Some of these children wouldn't be able to make a trip like this because of their need for medical assisstance. This is a charity I had no idea about. The cost must be monumental and something that will bring great joy to them.

So you would feel really bad if you didn't donate right? Well don't worry I got you - https://www.justgiving.com/page/chcd-charity-trust-1732207518692 - now, doesn't that make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside?

We crossed the channel, England thought it was in competiton with France for rainfall and when we got onto the motorway it said "hold my beer" and really showed us what it does best.

Oh well it's not like most of the clothes I took with me (including my pride and joy Napoli football top with Maradona 10 on the back), that I had put in a black bin bag to wash when I got home had been mistaken for rubbish and thrown away. Sorry, my mistake it was. Oh well it's not like I had left my limited edition Dan Henry 1972 Maverick watch on my bedside table at the hotel. Sorry, my mistake it was.

At least I managed to raid the supermarket before we left. Told you I had a problem 😏

Wheelchair Worries *Puissalicon Edition - The Brit Hotel Privilege Paris Rosny-Sous-Bois

photo courtesy of
brit hotel privilège

We pulled into the car park but were blocked by a barrier. We waited for a little while and it didn't move. There was an intercom by the barrier that I thought we would need to press and confirm we were guests, but the arm eventually raised and we went through and parked right in front of the hotel. The hotel was lovely. We went through some double doors into a small foyer and then through a large opening in a glass frontage into the reception. The reception is a large room with a grand piano, some chairs a table and some extremely comfortable looking deep sofas. The reception desk was in front of us underneath a skylight/glass canopy thing that must have been about thirty feet above. Cleaning the windows must have been a nightmare.

We went upto the disabled room. I was excited to see it. 

First of all we had to go through a fairly heavy door to get to the room. The door was on a hinge, which meant the door would start closing the moment you let go of it. My room was behind a similar style of door and there was a slightly raised threshold separating the room from the corridor. It was difficult for my Dad to get me in and stop the door from closing. I don't think I could have managed on my own.

photo courtesy of
brit hotel privilège

The room was lovely. There was a large comfy looking double bed in front of me beside a sofa. However I immediately experienced their preference for aesthetics over practicality.There was barely enough room for the wheelchair between the bed and sofa. 

An air con unit to control the temperature was on the wall opposite the bed. It was underneath a wall mounted flat screen television. The air con actually worked! Not a guarantee in most hotel rooms. I set it to make the room a bit cooler - I wasn't particularly warm, but I like to press things. I squeezed through the gap between the arm of the sofa and a cabinet and made my way over to the bathroom. This took me two attempts as the wheelchair had to be dead straight, there wasn't even enough room to put my hands on the wheels. I had to drag myself with my feet as my hands were stopping me from squeezing through. Fortunately the carpet was quite thin and didn't make it difficult.

I knew from the difficulty I was having moving around, that this room wasn't designed as a disabled room, it had been called a disabled room as an afterthought.

The bathroom was a nice and large marble effect bathroom with a grab rail by the shower and another by the toilet.

"This is better" Dad said, referring to the 'non disable friendly' accommodation we'd experienced in Sorrento.
"A shower you can actually fit in", he continued.
"Yea, I can't use it though. There isn't anywhere for me to sit..." I said, pointing at the shower.

I need a high backed shower chair, with arms to stop me from toppling. This is a very specific requirement that I wouldn't expect them to cater for, but I have been in hotel rooms' before that have a retractable seat on the wall next to the shower. 

I started to look at the practicality of this bathroom for a disabled person. The bathroom looked great. It was lovely marble effect, but they seemed to be more interested in the look rather than its functionality.

This shower had two shower heads. A large shower head that I imagine would cover you in a satisfying deluge of water and a smaller shower head to rinse yourself. This was out of the reach of a wheelchair user however. I didn't get close enough to the shower to see where the controls were, but as you can see from the video, the shower unit is barely reachable if you're in a wheelchair.

The shower screen had been removed, making this one large wet room. Any part of the room could get wet when the shower is on, especially the floor, which I suspected was slippy when dry, I can only imagine what it would be like wet. I had rubber soled shoes on at the moment, so I couldn't test my theory. The floor should be a non shiny surface and rough so you can get some grip. 

I should mention, there were advantages as well.

The sink was low enough to easily reach at my height. The underside was empty so I could get my legs underneath. The tap was easily accessible and was operated by lever rather than turning the top. The hair dryer is a bit of a stretch to reach and unhook from its holder, but it is above the near side of the table/ledge, so I wasn't straining over the sink to reach it.

I took advantage of this toilet having a toilet seat. I had learnt from my trip to Sorrento to check whether the toilets have seats. Something I had always assumed, but I had recent experience of that not always being a guarantee. A quick Google search revealed that France along with Italy and Greece have squat toilets in most public bathrooms. People tend to stand on them rather than sitting on them, meaning they get broken, They are a breeding ground for germs, it's easier to clean etc. It's not something I disagree with, although it is a lot harder for disabled people. At time of writing it appears to be just these three countries (France, Italy and Greece) that don't have toilet seats, but I wouldn't be surprised if this becomes more common in European countries. Disabled tourists should check what the protocol is in the country they are travelling too. 

This brings me on to my next issue. The toilet flush is a button on the wall just above the toilet. This meant I was accidentally pressing the flush when I raised myself up to take my trousers down. This isn't a problem that a lot of disabled users are going to experience, so it's a bit of a selfish gripe. However, isn't this gripe because it's a non-disabled bathroom like the other rooms in the hotel? I believe disabled toilets should have paddle-type flush handles and should be on the open side of the cistern, not on the wall side. A disabled user might not have the dexterity to push a button and the flush should be accessible using a hand, elbow, or other part of the body.

There is no panic cord in case of emergency. This is a legal requirement in the UK. I'm not sure about France. But, in this case it should be. What happens if a disabled person needs to call for help? It should reach almost all of the way to the floor, in case the disabled person has fallen. As the shower is on the opposite side of this large room, a similar panic cord system should be on the opposite wall as well.

This bathroom has clearly not been designed as a disabled bathroom.

It was about 21:45 so we went across the road to a bar called Aubureau, that said it served food. We located the ramp to get the wheelchair out of the car park, went across the street and into the bar, passing several people chatting outside whilst having a cigarette. The music was so loud I had to shout as loud as I could to be heard. We signalled there were four of us and as the waiter went to locate a table, I turned and shouted to Dad "I think we should try somewhere else" just as the waiter returned to show us to a table. Okay, quick service I thought, but I'm still not sure about the noise. Well, I think I thought that, but it was too loud to hear my own thoughts. 

We sat down, were given menu's and I immediately saw my much missed old friend, Hoegaarden. I hadn't seen it served in a pub for many a year, although that's probably because I don't get out much. I ordered a large, and large in France seems to mean 'the size of a laundry basket'. I needed two hands to lift the thing. 

Okay, quick service I thought, and they serve Hoegaarden in a laundry basket. But I'm still not sure about the noise. I had a flam du pays, which is like a very thin base square pizza with ham and mozzarella. It was divine. Okay, quick service I thought, they serve Hoegaarden in a laundry basket and the food is divine. But I'm still not sure about the noise. The place started to empty and we were pretty much the only people left in the place. It was still too loud to talk though.

We went back to the hotel for some kip

I went to the bathroom before going to bed. On my way back from the bathroom after brushing my teeth, I shut the curtains. I tend to plan what else I can do on each journey as I'm lazy and don't want to do each trip more than once. The left curtain was simple as there was plenty of room on this side of the bed to move the wheelchair next to the curtain. The right curtain wasn't so simple. The gap between the bed and sofa I mentioned before, meant getting close was impossible. A bedside table stopped me from getting close to the curtain and I was blocked by the sofa on my right side, so I had to reach and grab a piece of the curtain to pull it closer.

The consequences of drinking a bucket of Hoegaarden, meant another visit to the bathroom before bed was necessary. I didn't have room to turn around or move the wheels on my chair. I pushed myself backwards with my feet, lined up the chair to get through the gap between the arm of the sofa and the cabinet and made my way over to the bathroom. I realised I wasn't wearing my trainers, and I couldn't be bothered to go back over by the bed and get them. Through laziness I would test my 'slippy floor when dry' theory. I transferred to the toilet and tried to push up with my bare feet to remove my trousers, it was indeed too slippy. My feet just skated along the floor.

Their own website - https://paris-rosny-sous-bois.brithotel.fr/ - proudly displays that they have PMR rooms (People with Reduced Mobility). My Dad phoned them directly to check they did have a disabled room, as he had booked it through booking.com, and as we learnt when booking the accommodation for Sorrento - booking.com don't seem to have any means of verifying that you are telling the truth. The hotel assured Dad they did have a disabled room.

The bed was luxury though and they did put on a nice spread for breakfast.

For my purposes the Brit Hotel was very nice, but the disabled needs of somebody in a wheelchair are different from somebody who is unsteady on their feet. I think they should remove the PMR sticker from their website.

Wheelchair Worries *Puissalicon Edition - Roooooad Trip

I want to be completely transparent. This video was recorded at 23:23 on Thursday 12th September 2024, not 06:30 on Friday. I even wore the t-shirt I would be wearing the next day. I'm sorry, feel free to leave now if you are too disgusted with me to carry on.

Still here? I'll continue then.

Dad picked me up at 08:00 and we started the long journey down to Folkstone. The weather had been miserable for the past few days but today was quite sunny. It was early in the morning but the temperature was already fifteen degrees. It would be sods law if the weather in England was going to be nice for the next week and not nice in France.

We set off and the sat nav was saying our arrival time was going to be a lot sooner than we expected. Our calculations were a bit off, Folkstone wasn't as far away as we thought. No harm no foul, I don't like rushing, it stresses me out. Hence why I got up an hour and a half before we left. 

The roads were fairly empty and we had a fairly leisurely and relaxed drive, as there was no danger of being late for the train.

Even though the motorways were quite empty, everybody chose to drive in the right hand lane. I thought we were in France already but then remembered, it's a British tradition to drive in the right hand lane on the motorway.

We arrived at Le Shuttle with over an hour to wait for our train. Fortunately my Uncle and his partner Kaz arrived a few minutes after us. What are the chances they would be going to France on the same day, getting the same train and would be staying in the same villa.

Our train came up on the screen 'now boarding' and we took that as a subtle hint and headed for our cars. Within a few minutes we were in a small line of cars, presented our passports to a gentleman in a booth, had our car searched and headed for the train...via a mahoooosive traffic jam. It looked like the abandoned freeway in season 2 or 3 of The Walking Dead'. Most of these cars did have people in though. Those that didn't were standing around in the warm sun.

Sod's law was a worrying possibility.

An announcement came over the Tannoy, boarding was about to start. Car engines started switching on, people standing outside started walking briskly to their auto mobiles. The cars in front moved forward and it was our turn to keep the traffic moving. There was one small problem with that. We were in a DS. It's not the 1st time this car has acted like a toddler throwing a tantrum and refused to move, or just turned off mid drive leaving us stranded until the early hours of the morning.

"Do you want some jump leads?" A helpful woman calls over.

"No thank you, it's the computer refusing to start the car. It sometimes does this." Dad replies.

After a few minutes the car's stuck behind us breathe a sigh of relief as the temper tantrum subsides and we start moving.

We're ushered onto the bottom floor of the carriage, sit in our car for half an hour and hey presto we're in France.

The first thing I noticed was how big France was. I know that's quite an obvious comment. And how could I notice that just staring out of the window of a car? Well, it was 15:30 and the motorway was fairly empty. As the journey went on there were times when we couldn't see another car. Some things don't change though, everybody still drives on the right! 

Sod's law had come to fruition, as the relatively nice weather we'd left behind hadn't followed us across the channel. It was dry at least, but there were clouds in the sky. I hadn't signed up for clouds.

As the night drew in and we got closer to Paris the traffic became more and more congested. The sat nav was giving us simple instructions like "turn right" but there would be no right turns, just several roads forking to the right taking you to different parts of Paris. Fortunately, Dad somehow took us in the right direction and managed to stay in convoy with the two hangers on we met at Le Shuttle. We had reached our stop for the night - Brit Hotel Privilege Paris Rosny-sous-Bois.