One of my most important possessions is my trundle truck. I wish it were not. I wish I could still walk to the shops, around parks, along the beach. But I can’t.
And so I have my trundle truck, so important to me that I named this blog after it. I’ve had it for four years and wherever I go, the TT goes with me.
For the last couple of years of her life I was carer for my Mother and I had to buy a car which I could use to take her around in her wheelchair as she had to have a leg amputated. When she died I thought about selling the car but never got around to it and within three years my own mobility was seriously impaired so I was glad I still had that car. I’ve recently bought a similar but newer car, still with a ramp on so I can get TT in the back. So I keep the TT in the car. It goes with me wherever I go. Last year I went to Bruges to visit my nephew and I used the TT to get on and off the ferry then my nephew dismantled the TT and put it in the boot of his car re-assembling it whenever I needed it. TT took me around Bruges, and around the Great War sites in Flanders. TT takes me into our village and with the help of the car, into the nearly town. TT goes with me for days out in the country and for visits to garden centres.
For me, TT is freedom. I’m so glad that if I have to be disabled I can be disabled in the twenty first century.
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