A New Year's Message From The Broken Of Britain

This year was not kind to people with disabilities. 2010 began with a steady trickle of horror stories about Employment Support Allowance introduced by the Labour government in 2008 as the replacement for Incapacity Benefit, thus creating a draconian system making benefits conditional on work-related activity for most claimants. This conditionality is based on assessment by ‘healthcare professionals’ who are not doctors and may not be familiar with the variety of health conditions they face. The assessment is run by private sector provider Atos, who refuse to release the details of the test used to assess eligibility for reasons of ‘commercial interest’. There followed more disability charities lining their own pockets by colluding in the unfair system rather than fighting for those they claim to represent; and continuing doubts regarding the future of Disability Living Allowance (DLA) paid to help disabled people face the additional costs of disability.

Labour eventually backed away from DLA, and disabled people sighed with relief. Past Tory zeal for chopping at the welfare state and the Tory papers’ penchant for calling disabled people cheats has not befriended the party to us, but the Coalition Government was not totally objectionable. After all, David Cameron has experience of disability in his family, the Tories made an election promise to safeguard DLA, and the Lib Dems were not a party of unfair and discriminatory cuts. Early statements and the news of big changes to come caused some unease, but the first real signal of the Government’s intention came in the Emergency Budget, with George Osborne’s announcement of unnecessary medical tests for DLA claimants.

Since June, news of substantial losses for disabled people has come thick and fast. The axing of disability bodies doing useful and necessary work in the cull of quangos; a Comprehensive Spending Review which removed the mobility component of DLA from those in residential care to much anger; time-limiting contribution-based Employment and Support Allowance to 12 months in the same review; the cutting of advice on benefits; the fudged Harrington review of Employment Support Allowance which avoided the major points of criticism; the three-year extension of a contract worth over £100 million per year to Atos; all whilst disability charities continued to cheerfully pick the carcass of the welfare state. Then came the straw that broke the camel’s back – the Government decided to scrap DLA and replace it with a new, leaner system called Personal Independence Payment (PIP) - the public consultation n DLA reformcloses on February 14th. PIP will cut the DLA caseload by 20% using testing similar to that used for Employment and Support Allowance. The case for reform is badly flawed and there are several damaging changes hidden in the small print. For example, six-times London Marathon winner Baroness Tanni Grey-Thompson could lose out because she uses her wheelchair too well.

The Coalition Government has heaped misery on disabled people in just six months, backed up by their tabloid attack dogs, targeting them more than anybody else. A week after breaking the camel’s back, the Coalition decided to bash its head into the sand by axing the Independent Living Fund. This money funds 21,000 people to live independently who would otherwise live in hospitals or residential care, at far greater economic and social cost. Maria Miller, Minister for Disabled People, justifies the decision by deeming the ILF to be “unsustainable”. On a personal note, my best friend relies on ILF to support her care needs. ILF enables her to live independently and employ her high skills. Her contribution to society, including the tax she pays, is enormous. I suggest the Minister try telling her that her support is “financially unsustainable”.

By targeting DLA and the Independent Living Fund the Coalition have gone too far. A number of new disability rights groups and websites have responded to the proposals with focus and determination and are organizing alternative protest and direct action. Whilst the disability charities busy themselves forming consortia worth £654 million to bid for Government back-to-work contracts, protesting for disability rights is coming from the grassroots using our skills to raise awareness of our fights and to build political alliances. Public sector workers have been unfairly targeted as well; students too are victims of cuts and broken promises; these and other Coalition targets are our natural allies. We are campaigning on many fronts and ask that you join us in doing so by signing our petition to stop DLA reform and supporting our DLA campaign, as have a number of Lords and MPs including Jon Cruddas and Hywel Williams. We are getting MPs to ask questions, start debates and table Early Day Motions on DLA, pressuring the Coalition to back down.

2011 will be a good year for disabled people as we petition this Government to withdraw on DLA and the Independent Living Fund, and to bring fairness back into Employment Support Allowance. David Cameron and Iain Duncan-Smith have picked the wrong fight.

- by Kaliya Franklin and Rhydian Fôn James

Bog Off - Exhibit 31 A Second Starbucks Sorry?

The only way I could describe this Bog Off found in the Liverpool One Starbucks was to say "It's minging. Oh and a bit rank too." Deeply disappointing after such high hopes of Starbucks. 


Back in October my friend @trufflepotamus was refused entry to a disabled toilet in a Norwich Starbucks as she wasn't in a wheelchair. As soon as Starbucks were tweeted this information they responsed promptly with an apology, investigation and staff retraining. We were impressed and yesterday Truffle and I had a tweet up in Liverpool One to enjoy the free coffee Starbucks gave us as an apology. 


To be fair, I did enjoy my coffee, well caramel hot chocolate actually. It was delicious. But I made the mistake of going to the toilet before I'd finished my drink, after which it just didn't taste so good. The toilet was so disgusting, I felt sick.  Having worked in restaurants I know only too well that the state of the toilets is a good general indicator of the condition of the food preparing facilities and hand hygeine of the staff. This toilet was so smelly and disgusting that I had to have a bath when I got home as I still felt contaminated. There were urine soaked tissues behind the cistern, urine splashed across the seat and thick dust coating the grab rails indicating a long term lack of cleaning rather than the more forgivable overwhelmed by the Christmas rush problem. 




Dark Blue toilet seat with visible urine splashes
The good points about the toilet rather got lost in fighting the urge to vomit the smell was so overpowering. Starbucks use constrasting blue grab rails which is great as they stand out easy to be seen. There were also two mirrors, one full length and one above the sink, at a good height for a wheelchair user. However the poor hygeine was so widespread I feared touching any of the grab rails, if the dust is that thick right next to the actual toilet then the germs must've been having an orgy. There was a help cord and it wasn't tied up, but it was too short to reach the floor and in a very awkward place. Frankly anyone unfortunate enough to end up needing to pull that cord for help would need a chemical decontamination unit after contact with anything in there, and new clothes as theirs would have been soaked with stranger's urine. 



Toilet with seat lifted and urine soaked toilet paper visible behind it

Sink with surrounding grab rails in contrasting dark blue and mirror above, too high to be visible from a wheelchair

Dark blue lower down grab rail directly adjacent to toilet, coated with a thick layer of dust

Full length mirror. Nappy bin obstructing access to sanitary dispoal bin from toilet area

Help cord adjacent to soiled toilet area, cord too short to be reached from floor
I am fortunate enough to be able to grab fistfulls of loo roll to lift up a toilet seat with, but others are not. It wouldn't have done them any good however as once lifted it was clear the cistern was equally generously coated with urine. Hovering over a soiled loo seat trying to pee while avoiding contact is difficult enough for the physically able but impossible for most disabled people...especially as the grab rails were too dirty to hold on to. 


The big question is not will Starbucks apologise for this smelly, sorrowful disabled toilet, but will they lead the way in improving their staff training and accessible facilities nationwide? I'm willing to drink alot of coffee to find out...


The managing director of Starbucks UK can be contacted via twitter


Update 03/01/2011 The following email was received from Starbucks on 31/12/2010


Our ref: 334909
 
31 December 2010
 
Dear BendyGirl
I have recently read your blog following your visit to the Liverpool One - Paradise Street Store and I am very sorry, and disappointed to hear about the appearance of the toilets.
 
We endeavour to provide a clean and comfortable environment that is accessible to all customers, in which you can relax and enjoy your favourite beverage, so we appreciate you bringing your concerns to our attention. 
 
I have shared your feedback with my district management team for their attention and investigation, to ensure no such situation arises in the future.  I have also instructed immediate deep cleaning in the store today to ensure the issues you have raised are addressed. 
 
I am sorry that you have had to bring this issue to our attention and I can assure you that your thoughts will be acted upon.  
 
I understand we have already tried to restore your faith in Starbucks once, however I hope we can continue to welcome you into our stores.  So that we can do this I would like to send you a Starbucks Card for you to continue to use in Starbucks. We have your address on file already please let me now if this is the right address to send it to
 
Once again, thank you very much for sharing your feedback with us and for giving us the opportunity to improve our operations.
 
Yours sincerely
 
Jane Coleman
Regional Director of Operations
 
 
 
 

A Moment In Time

As it's Cripmas week I'm reposting some of the more heartwarming or humourous old blogs. Hope you enjoy them!

Originally posted 13/02/2009


These days we're all so busy, busy, busy that even close friends or family can take weeks to schedule a time when all parties are able to see each other. In amongst all that rushing around to meet appointments, targets, deadlines it's all too easy to focus so closely on our own lives that we forget to see anyone else's.

Since I was allocated my landline phone number I've been receiving lots of wrong numbers. I was distinctly unimpressed to be woken up early on Saturday morning by the phone, I couldn't get to it in time, didn't recognise the number but it still did a good job of preventing me going back to sleep. So,
at first when I heard the quavering voice on the end of the phone my heart sank. I'd only been home about 10 minutes, I was tired, hungry and in fact so engrossed in something that I missed the first call she made.

The second time I got to the phone in time. She was already a bit confused was Auntie Betsy, she wanted to speak to her nephew Dave, was quite sure she'd phoned his number. This number. My number. With one eye on the clock I assured her this wasn't Dave's phone number, said goodbye and thought no more of it. Until she rang again just a moment later. More confused, and I could hear both the distress and shame in her voice as she told me she was in her 80's. That she'd once had a very responsible job you know...she just didn't know how she could manage to muddle up a few numbers so easily.

Once again I explained she had the wrong number, but this time tried to find out who she was looking for. She was calling from all the way across the country she said, would I know her? I explained that was unlikely, but that we'd get this sorted and I'd try the phone book to find her nephew.

Of course they were ex directory.

I live in a small area though and in some small ways community spirit is alive and well. So, it turned out I knew her nephew. Not well, he's a friend of a friend of a friend. But I knew enough to recognise who Aunty Betsy was looking for, and figured if I couldn't spare a few moments to help a confused old lady then what did that say about me as a human being.

Fortunately Aunty Betsy had the number for her nephew's mother, or so she said. I wasn't quite sure because that would've meant it was either her sister or sister-in-law (I think!) but still, I figured it was worth giving it a go. Otherwise I knew it would be possible to track down her nephew but it would mean multiple phone calls to different people to try and track down a number for the friend, to get the number of the friend of the friend.

The number was correct, and turned out to be for nephew Dave, with no mention of his mother. We said our hello's and I explained about Aunty Betsy being a bit puddled. Dave said he'd give her a call and apologised repeatedly. My phone number was previously Dave's phone number and Aunty Betsy must've just got them mixed up.

I called Aunty Betsy after I'd spoken to Dave to let her know that was the right phone number and to reassure her.

Later, alone in bed the thought of a confused old lady phoning and phoning a number she wasn't too sure about to try and speak to her nephew and wondering why he didn't answer her brought me to tears. What possible use are all our shiny gadgets and adrenaline packed lives if we can't find just a few moments in our days for everyone's Aunty Betsy?
 

He Answers To Chuck

As it's Cripmas week I'm reposting some of the more heartwarming or humourous old blogs. Hope you enjoy them!

Originally posted 27/03/2008


This afternoon's bright sunshine drew me out of the house for an extended chocolate death walk. I pootled round my route, then bumped into Ziggy practicing staff outside his house. It was so glorious and such a pleasure to be out that I decided to do the actual chocolate bit of the death walk and set off for the garage arm in arm with Ziggy's girlfriend to buy an ice lolly.

On our way home, ice creams in a bag we saw an elderly gentleman coming towards us. Well dressed and with visible gold jewelery and watch but no coat something seemed amiss and as we reached the man he asked us for directions to the local police station. He stood in the road as he asked us, and told us of the men who had taken over his home and trapped his wife in it. He was quite confused and most insistent he just wanted to know how to get to the police station.

There is no police station in our town, and the next one is a couple of miles down the road, only manned part time so we insisted he could use my mobile phone to call, or that we would take him there if he wished. By this time we'd already established that although he knew his name, he didn't know where he lived, where he was or where he wanted to go and neither of us felt we could leave him stood confused and vulnerable on the side of the road.

I dialled 999 and was put through to the police, explaining the situation to the man in the control room. I stressed the vulnerability of the gentleman and how we'd found him just wandering and confused and asked for someone to come as soon as they could. Having given my name and address and established that the gentleman would come with us, I said that we would take him back to my house and make him a cup of tea whilst we waited for the police. Given the priority of the situation I was glad to hear someone would be out asap, but less glad to hear that it could be up to an hour.

We managed the few meters home and threw a very disgruntled cat out of the armchair so we could sit the old man down. Once sat with a cup of tea he seemed quite happy with both us and his surroundings, although still upset and concerned about the men in his house, and worried that he might get into trouble from the police. We reassured him frequently that no-one would be angry with him, and that the police would be only too glad to help him. Whilst we waited we asked the man about whether he had any children and if he knew their names hoping we could find a phone number for them. Although he could tell us his daughter's name and that she was married with children, he didn't know what her husband might be called so we could find out her married name, or where she lived. He was alternating between thinking he was still in Ireland and worried about getting back home to Hollywood.

He told us of how he met his wife during his national service and how they'd married just afterwards, her 19, he 20, frequently telling us that she had died just a few weeks or few days ago. It was obvious someone would be missing him and that as we'd given the police a name and description just kept reassuring him that someone would be here for him soon and not to worry about anyone being cross, they would just be glad to see him.

After 20 minutes or so the police phoned back, confirming the man's name and explaining he answered to Chuck. They'd found where he lived. As we thought from the man's description of undoing 4 locks and 'escaping', he was missing from a local nursing home. The person calling from the police explained that they had not been able to find a spare officer anywhere to attend the call, but they had spoken to the nursing home and someone would be round soon to collect him.

Shortly afterwards a van pulled up and a very anxious man knocked at the door explaining that his wife ran the nursing home and that they currently had builders in. This had obviously upset Chuck who thought they had taken over his home and his wife, and whilst tea was being prepared he had managed to slip out unnoticed. Chuck seemed perfectly happy to go with the man, albeit a bit confused by the white van he was to get in. Whilst Chuck was being helped into the van a car pulled up and a frantic looking woman arrived to explain she was the person in charge and what had happened.

Chuck lost his wife six months ago and had to move from his home to this area to be close to his daughter. Usually she visited him every day, but was on holiday at the moment and so Chuck was more confused than normal. She thanked us for taking care of him and we made sure to find out the name of the nursing home in case we found him again.

It was all just so sad.

Random Acts Of Bah Humbug

Dave may believe he invented Big Society innit but most of us have been quietly getting on with Big Societying for years in our own small ways. My Big Society moral of today is to buy more purple to insure against miserable old ladyhood...

After months of illness I finally felt well enough to have my flu jab so booked an appointment for this afternoon. The weather was kind and allowed me to get out of the front door and to the GP's surgery to engage in a constructive debate with the practice nurse about how the notes claim I've had a flu jab already this year. Fortunately we sorted it out and the injection was given without blood shed so I settled down to wait in reception for the standard post vaccination 'don't die on us' 15 minutes. 

I'd parked in the disabled bay when I arrived but not terribly well as I was aligning the driver's door with the gritted bits. My GP was off out on his visits and came back in laughing because I'd informed him on the way out that if I'd blocked him in he'd have to move my car. I handed over the keys, he moved the car and we all got back to the scheduled reception rowentertainment.

There was an old lady giving the receptionist a very hard time about her prescription...it wasn't at the doctor's surgery as she'd asked for it to be sent to the chemists...who denied all knowledge of it. Probably because the old lady was using a different pharmacy each time so no-one could keep track of where her prescriptions were ending up. It's cold, it's Christmas week and she was clearly distressed and distressing the receptionist so I offered to give her a lift to collect her prescription. Except several phone calls and some hysterical sobbing later we couldn't find the prescription at all. Throw in some very cross ranting to the mixture and Christmas goodwill was about the last thing that reception area was feeling. 

Finally after time for more hysterics, more phone calls, no prescription and trips to the loo we were all set and the old lady and I headed outside. I'd heeded the receptionists warning that the old lady was actually far more physically able than I am and managed to insist she get into the car herself, which was perfectly safe as it was all gritted. Surrounded by bags and ill humour which I was attempting to deflect with a rather fixed grin, I discovered my GP had pulled the handbrake on in proper man fashion so I couldn't even budge it and the grin turned into giggles at the pure vitriol emanating from the old ladies mouth as she dealt with this latest conspiracy against her. I had to go back inside and get the receptionist to come and take the handbrake off for me so we could leave. I'm sure my GP will be most amused by the note the receptionist left him instructing him to take more care with other people's handbrakes. 

Fortunately there was only one more set of tears* in the car and the air was a consoling blue by the time we made it to the old lady's ice rink back road. Of course she lived right at the end of it and wanted me to help her to the front door. I felt momentarily guilty co-opting the nice young man walking past with his dog to help the old lady as I couldn't warn him that she was likely to tear strips off him for his trouble, but then I remembered...it's the Big Society and we've all got to play our part...even if that part is being sworn at by a crotchety septegenarian. Actually, now I think about it...Dave is probably working on that bit of the Big Society himself this week..


*her tears not mine. Though trust me, I considered it just to get her to stop moaning!