The end of summer came down with the heavens, washing out the beaten path across the fields, sliding me and my wheelchair out of the mud and onto the tarmac.

Normally, with a few good frosts, I can eek out the last few weeks of freedom until mid-October, but this year the kids had barely returned to school before I was washed away, lost to the river, tearing down pavements instead.

But not for long.

They’re building a wheelchair accessible path along my favourite section of the river, mirroring a similar path on the posh side of town.

Not everyone is happy.

‘Did they do this for you then?’ one irate dog walker snaps, head tilting to the diggers and piles of dirt.

I don’t know how much power she thinks I have over the County Council, but I’m flattered she thinks I have any.

‘How much is all this costing, then?’ another dog walker asks, bristling at the mess.

Do they think I’m someone else?

Is there another woman whizzing about in her wheelchair with superhuman powers to get the Council to do her bidding? Because if there is, there’s a few drop-curbs she could sort out and how about some extra funding for the library?

‘I hope you’re going to use this?’ another dog walker exclaims on the posh side of town as I follow the wheelchair path through the meadows.

Well, I’m here aren’t I?

I know this is stating the obvious, but the wheelchair accessible paths were not put in for me.

Do I love the idea of them – yes!

Do I think making access for all a priority – absolutely!

Do I think that these wheelchair accessible paths will be great for people with scooters and pushchairs as well as wheelchair users, – well obviously.

Should I be personally grateful?

Let me ask you this,- are you grateful for pavements? 

Did you personally request pavements in your area, meaning you can access wherever it is you want to go?

Do you know how much those pavements cost, or who is going to be responsible for their upkeep, or where they are going to put the football goalposts now they’ve been moved for ‘your’ pavement?

No?

Me neither.

So why the fuck would I know the answer to any of these questions about a wheelchair path.

I appreciate that not everyone likes change.

I understand that the paths look a mess now, what with all the mud and the rain we’ve been having, but once they bed in, once the grass seed sprouts you’ll barely notice them.

They look great on the posh side of town.

What, you don’t like your access to the fields being restricted – I can empathise, seriously I can.

But I say again – none of that has anything to do with me.

I just want to put my headphones in and take the dog for walk. I just want to sit by the side of the river, the bite of winter frosting up my wheels, a wee flask of something hot and spiced to sip from as the crows and magpies dance through mist-heavy banks.

I just want to bathe in the wild beauty of it all, the unexpected flash of Kingfisher wings, the fleeting glance of a bedraggled Cormorant camouflaged in naked trees, the wild splash of something unseen at the waters edge.

Just like you.

And its not like you can’t use the path as well.

I’m happy to share if you are – just don’t ask me how much that might cost.