Gran Time on the Bus

Today I used my bus pass for the first time. I had my two-year-old grandson with me, a dog and a manual wheelchair. If you’re waiting for the bit where I say, ‘What could possibly go wrong?’ I can assure you I’d already given that question a great deal of thought.

We went to a nearby town, had a picnic, played in the park and came home on the bus. A perfectly ordinary day out. I’m still rather pleased with myself.

I’ve had a disabled person’s bus pass for some time. I’ve watched buses go past my front door and wondered where they were going. Then I’d wonder where they stopped. Was there a busy road to cross when we got off? Could I get across it in my manual chair while keeping track of a two-year-old and a dog? And that was all before I’d worked out how to get the three of us on the bus in the first place.

I spend a fair bit of my working life talking about accessible adventures. You might think that would make me the first one at the bus stop. As it turns out, I’m quite capable of watching a bus sail past my house and deciding that perhaps today is a very good day for the mud kitchen.

Gran time in the garden

I’ve been looking after my grandson for about nine months, since moving back to be nearer my family. For the first few months, our adventures took place within the garden. We spend as much time outside as we can. If it’s cold, we wrap up warm. There’s a ball to play with, sand to dig in and a mud kitchen where the chef is two and the soup is usually mud.

We chalk on the ground and leave the washing-up to the rain. There’s something rather lovely about having a blank canvas again after a downpour, especially when it’s somebody else who’s done the cleaning. We love our gran time. I could happily spend an afternoon out there with him, and very often I do.

Across the road from my house is a beautiful park, with a lovely playground and water play. I could see how much fun we’d have there. I could also see the road. Crossing it with a manual wheelchair, a small child and a dog felt like an expedition in its own right.

In the summer I plucked up the courage to do it. Slowly but surely, the crossing became part of our day. Now we always find time for the park and a visit to Butterfly World. There are butterflies, of course, but there are also enormous goldfish, terrapins and a jungle experience. You can fit quite a lot into gran time once you’ve got to the other side of the road.

I’ve taught my grandson to hold on to the side of my wheelchair as I roll along. To him, that’s simply how he goes places with Gran. He’s growing up with a gran who uses a wheelchair, and I love how ordinary that is to him. He has a spot beside me and, from there, a whole world of things to look at.

Today a friend came along and kept a little distance, giving me a hand when I needed one. That was exactly what I needed. I had room to work things out for myself and someone close by if I ran out of hands. Between a toddler, a dog and a manual wheelchair, running out of hands is quite a reasonable expectation.

Gran Time in the Park

And we did it. I used the pass, we got on the bus and we went to the park in the next town. We had our picnic and a play. I even chanced a go on the swing myself, then had a turn on the roundabout, which was adapted to take a wheelchair. I went to the park to give my grandson a bit of fun and ended up having a whale of a time myself. Doing silly little things keeps you young!

There’s a reason I’d wanted to try it, and it goes back to when my son Adam was little.

How many ways can we get there?

When my mum looked after Adam, they’d spend the day trying to travel on as many different forms of transport as they could. I can still remember the enthusiasm with which he’d tell me about their expeditions. Getting there was half the fun, and I suspect some days it was nearly all of it.

I used to love hearing him tell those stories. He’d had a day out with his gran and come home with a tale he couldn’t wait to share. I want to give my grandson some of those days, too. I’d love to hear what he remembers about them when he’s older. Knowing our luck, I’ll be telling him about the great occasion when Gran finally used her bus pass, and he’ll remember what we had for the picnic.

When I think about the things that gave me the confidence to get on that bus, they’re all small enough to fit into a normal day. An afternoon chalking in the garden. One trip across the road. Another trip across the road. A little hand learning where to hold on. A friend who understood how much difference it would make just to be nearby.

I’m glad I gave myself time for those baby steps. I know how easy it is to look at a journey on paper and think it sounds simple. The things I needed to know were the bits between the lines of the timetable. Where would we get off? What would the crossing be like? Could I picture myself doing it with my own little travelling party? Today I could, and by the time we came home I was already thinking about where we might go next.

Mum and Adam would probably have squeezed another two forms of transport into the afternoon. We’re working up to that. For now, if you see me watching the buses go past my front door, there’s every chance I’m deciding which one we’ll catch next.