| About the author: | My name's Lindsey. I'm 34 years old. I've been writing for five years. For the past three, I've been compiling a diary covering one year of my life as a wheelchair user (since birth). I've submitted the manuscript to a couple of publisher's anxiously awaiting a reply. I write poetry, short stories and love dolphins and whiskey. I also have a cat named Whiskey. She keeps me company in my bungalow (with support from carers). |
Jenny drove off on the Shopmobility scooter, through the superstore's automatic doors. A cheeky grin spread over her glowing red face, like a little girl defying her mother. Oh, that was so easy, she thought as she headed towards the car park, in search of her taxi. She gave a sudden jerk as she felt an unfamiliar hand on her shoulder. She took her hands from the controls and turned to look up at the well-built, black figure to the side of her. "Excuse me madam, I think you've forgotten something," said the security guard. He removed the checked blanket from the rusty basket in front of her to reveal underneath a bag containing two bottles of Jameson whiskey and items of clothing. "Sor...ry, I must've for...got", hiccuped Jenny, flicking back her dark, shoulder length hair. "It's the tab...lets you know?" As the guard grew closer he got a strong whiff of whisky. Jenny noticed from his badge that his name was Leo. "Seems like more than the tablets to me. You've been drinking?" he asked. "I can smell it on your breath," he continued as he looked at the two bottles of whisky lying on the clothes. "Of...of course not, err...Leo. You're not supposed to dr-drink and dr...ive you know!" Jenny hiccuped. Back at The Home, she'd just finished her bottle. Her friend Chris had helped her pour it. "Yes, I know, young lady, but we're not talking about me, are we? You won't get far on that thing, we've had them years. And I hope you've paid your deposit?" he continued, whilst fixing his eyes on the rusty pea green scooter. "Yeah, of course, I'm not stupid... you know," hiccuped Jenny, feeling frustrated. "I'm going to have to ask you to come with me. And I think you'd better sober up a bit," he continued in an authoritative voice. | 
