Mark and I were in Hobart, went out for dinner, left the restaurant and attempted to walk back to the hotel.
High heels, wine and cobbled streets don't work.
Fell off my shoe, broke my foot and had to be piggy-backed to the hotel, we couldn't get a cab.
Next day hired a wheel chair, I really couldn't walk and we were off sight seeing down to Port Arthur.
I'd left my groovy sunglasses in the room so I picked up an el cheapo pair. You know, old people ones that wrap around your face.
It was really cold so I took a blanket.
Mark was wheeling me around, really badly, he left me in front of blank walls with nothing to look at.
To recap, in a wheel chair, blankey covering my legs and big sunnies on.
I was deposited in front of some sight seeing thing and Mark went to the loo. People came up and started to read me the signs with all the descriptions on them, and I kept moving my head around to look.
I thought gosh these Taswegians sure are friendly.
Then the penny dropped.
They thought I was blind and crippled and I was moving my head around like that blind, black singer with the macrami head gear.
On the way home I had to be hoisted up to the plane with the catering.
No comments:
Post a Comment