Monday and Tuesday.

Conference gig. Natioanl Obesity Forum top gig it goes well I end up speaking and decline the Tuesday BBC news. Dont want to cheese work off. Meet hundreds of new people andlove it. Marvel at the photos, meet Rosemary Conley and Chris steele Telly doc are interesting. Just a wow.
Causes me to reflect on the last conference I attended.
Reflections from a delegate.
Last time I attended a conference in London I was probably about 33 stone, I walked with the aid of two elbow crutches, my joints screamed with pain. Attending the NOF conference made me reflect on what it was like, and the difference now.

I was roused from a deep sleep by my wife, who helped me bathe. Barely able to squeeze into our extra large bath, but unable to stand long enough to shower. I needed help to wash my feet, and had to be assisted out of the bath and towelled dry by to reach the unreachable parts. I couldn’t dress my self, my shoes and socks were things that I had to rely on my wife to attend to. Unable to stand long enough to prepare food she would do it, or I would perch on my industrial strength wooden garden chair.

We drove in my enormous Ford Galaxy (I could fit behind the wheel) to Lime street station, parked in the disabled parking space and she and my daughter carried my luggage to the virgin office, where I was handed over to a helpful lady. Having prebooked and holding a disabled persons rail card I was able to use their care scheme.

She escorted me to my reserved seat in second class it soon became clear that there was no way I was fitting in the seat, it wasn’t wide enough and the table made it impossible. I felt ashamed as the staff helpfully tried to first wedge me in then secondly extricate me.

The senior hand suggested an upgrade to first class was appropriate; the seats are made for comfort. She made a fuss of telling me it would cost 15 quid but quietly confided she only did that to stop me being lynched by the other passengers. Breathless anxious sweating and in pain I commenced a slow journey to the other end of the train. The seats were bigger but indeed I still had to be forced into position. A kind guard plied me with drinks I generally refused because I knew I was large to get in to the narrow doored toilet.

On arrival at Euston I was told to await the Euston equivalent of the nice lady, after 35 minutes in a darkened carriage a man came to evict me he radioed mobility assistance. A man who was an obvious obesophobic arrived. The friendly accusatory stare made me feel great. He threw my luggage into the back of his powered cart and I took up the entire back seat and was driven complete with orange flashing lights around Euston. Might as well been displaying a who ate all the pies banner.

On arrival at the taxi rank the smiles said it all. I struggled out with my luggage and crutches. The porter helped with luggage I had to stand queuing for fifteen minutes drenched in sweat and breathless every joint screaming in protest. I registered and made my way to my room which was helpfully disabled friendly. The had removed the toilet door.

The toilet was located so close to the heated towel rail, after squeezing myself in I burnt my leg again and again. Not many people know that obese men sit to pee. Defecation brought the delight of a long handled bottom wiper. A folding instrument around which toilet paper is wrapped. It isn’t quite clear how you remove the toilet paper in an eco friendly way. The job is usually finished with a shower and some imagination, particularly if a shower head is fixed.

I ate food delivered by room service too ashamed to travel the dining room, ok for the evening meal. But the breakfast was left on the floor outside the room. Only tactic was to get on the floor shuffle out on my backside. The door slammed and yes the key was in the room, still at least I had my shirt and underpants on. Only 20 minutes till someone passed and got the porter for me. Beginning to feel a bit low by this point. Back into the room and I got ready by now I needed another shower. Achieved with some difficulty by squatting in the shower, .

I was on the seventh floor and had to let the lift go 7 times before I got one empty enough to consider getting in. Then a cab (another fat friendly geezer - not). The conference centre and a 40 minute queue for registration, wracked with pain I get into the hall. Taking two seats is always popular. Coffee was impossible, bottled water from home. Lunch was a treat a buffet with two crutches was a non starter. Eventually found an eatery with chairs without arms.

There was I believe an exhibition I don’t know it was too far to even comprehend going to. Standing talking was impossible, a complete non starter. In the afternoon the sessions I wanted to attend were cunningly planned at opposite ends of the huge centre. In the end I just stayed in the same room and looked interested in what was going on. The drinks reception was a hoot two chairs in the whole room I got one then discovered how wheelchair users feel, conversing with peoples groins. Dinner was a nightmare chairs with arms, well I asked the poor eastern European waiter and he got the drift. The AVA technician brought in a collapsible folding armless chair sized me up then took it away. The place settings are of course set for a normal sized geezer a third of my body weight and width.

But never mind I was a jolly fat man, but never, despite appearances a fat jolly man.

It brought it home at the end of the NOF conference a man said aren’t you going shopping, I hadn’t realised I was able. I had forgotten I could run 5k in 38 minutes so I could probably do a bit of shopping.