I've just arrived back from an onerous trip to the big smoke. Actually, it was to the side of the big smoke but it was close enough that I felt a wheeze coming on. It was there that I saw me Ma. I haven't seen her for a while and we caught up on some well deserved laughter. Her gift of storytelling and a good dose of imagination had us shedding a tear or two of merriment.
MeMa recently spoke to her partially estranged sister (yes, partial estrangement is difficult) who, while younger than MeMa, has still managed to reach the age where everyday tasks can take all day.
Her disability was showing when it came to using her wheelbarrow and her son-in-law suggested he raise the height of the wheelbarrow and put a couple of extra wheels on it so that she didn't actually have to bear any weight. He fitted the wheels and raised the barrow until it was the perfect height. He asked if she wanted a brake fitted. She laughed and assured him no brake was necessary.
The first time she used the wheelbarrow, she had to accept her folly (and her belief that son-in-law had been joking when he suggested a brake) as the barrow escaped her clutches and ran off down the hill with a load of freshly cut fire wood.
She has since learnt to wheel across steep slopes and park the barrow sideways.
The problem induced MeMa and I to brainstorm how the 3-wheeled wheelbarrow could be tamed. I think our final idea was probably one of the finest -- a stone anchor with a flick-switch mechanism on the handle...far superior to the traditional and somewhat mundane brake set-up.
Luckily MeMa's Sister wasn't present, as she probably wouldn't have appreciated the brilliance of our ideas.
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