We went upto the disabled room. I was excited to see it.
First of all we had to go through a fairly heavy door to get to the room. The door was on a hinge, which meant the door would start closing the moment you let go of it. My room was behind a similar style of door and there was a slightly raised threshold separating the room from the corridor. It was difficult for my Dad to get me in and stop the door from closing. I don't think I could have managed on my own.
"This is better" Dad said, referring to the 'non disable friendly' accommodation we'd experienced in Sorrento.
"A shower you can actually fit in", he continued.
"Yea, I can't use it though. There isn't anywhere for me to sit..." I said, pointing at the shower.
I took advantage of having a toilet with a toilet seat. I found travelling through France was much like travelling through Italy - public bathrooms don't have toilet seats. I did a quick Google on why this is. People tend to stand on them rather than sitting on them, meaning they get broken, they are a breeding ground for germs, it's easier to clean etc. Disabled tourists should check what the protocol is in the country they are travelling too.
There is no panic cord in case of emergency. This is a legal requirement in the UK. I'm not sure about France. But, in this case it should be. What happens if a disabled person needs to call for help? It should reach almost all of the way to the floor, in case the disabled person has fallen. As the shower is on the opposite side of this large room, a similar panic cord system should be on the opposite wall as well.
It was about 21:45 so we went across the road to a bar called Aubureau, that said it served food. We located the ramp to get the wheelchair out of the car park, went across the street and into the bar, passing several people chatting outside whilst having a cigarette. The music was so loud I had to shout as loud as I could to be heard. We signalled there were four of us and as the waiter went to locate a table, I turned and shouted to Dad "I think we should try somewhere else" just as the waiter returned to show us to a table. Okay, quick service I thought, but I'm still not sure about the noise. Well, I think I thought that, but it was too loud to hear my own thoughts.
We sat down, were given menu's and I immediately saw my much missed old friend, Hoegaarden. I hadn't seen it served in a pub for many a year, although that's probably because I don't get out much. I ordered a large, and large in France seems to mean 'the size of a laundry basket'. I needed two hands to lift the thing.We went back to the hotel for some kip
I went to the bathroom before going to bed. On my way back from the bathroom after brushing my teeth, I shut the curtains. I tend to plan what else I can do on each journey as I'm lazy and don't want to do each trip more than once. The left curtain was simple as there was plenty of room on this side of the bed to move the wheelchair next to the curtain. The right curtain wasn't so simple. The gap between the bed and sofa I mentioned before - annoyingly, hadn't got bigger. A bedside table stopped me from getting close to the curtain and I was blocked by the sofa on my right side, so I had to reach and grab a piece of the curtain to pull it closer.
The consequences of drinking a bucket of Hoegaarden, meant another visit to the bathroom before bed was necessary. I didn't have room to turn around or move the wheels on my chair. I pushed myself backwards with my feet, lined up the chair to get through the gap between the arm of the sofa and the cabinet and made my way over to the bathroom. I realised I wasn't wearing my trainers, and I couldn't be bothered to go back over by the bed and get them. Through laziness I would test my 'slippy floor when dry'. I transferred to the toilet and tried to push up with my bare feet to remove my trousers, but my feet just skated along the floor.