15 Jul 2024
By Myah Richards and Damian Gaskin
I want to go to Glastonbury and so I do. I’m off. I’m independent. I simply add the £360 ticket to my AMEX Black card, sling my bags in the back of the Range Rover and I am quickly joining the M25, on my way to Somerset to enjoy Coldplay with 210,000 other wild festival-goers. My goodness I am so cool and so worthy.
I want to see the England vs Switzerland match. No problem. I’m a free agent. I put the £368 ticket and the air fare and the Ubers, and the meals all on Apple Pay and leave early on Friday because, well, I’m the boss and I can. It’s that simple. It’s not luck. I earned this privilege. Well, my parents did.
And yes, of course, I’ll be at centre court for the Wimbledon final and glamp at the Reading Festival, attend the premier of ‘Despicable Me4’ in Leicester Square and the opening night of ‘Frankie Goes to Bollywood’ in the West End. And you can see it all over my Insta page, my Snap or on Tik Tok, where I’ll be posing with David Beckham and Tom Cruise.
Oh hang on, day dreaming again. I cannot actually keep my fingers still enough to use my iPhone, let alone pay for a plane ticket with my thumb. I can’t sling a bag into my Range Rover because my limbs are not strong enough. Posh wellies? I would need caterpillar tracks on my wheelchair and even then I would not be able to see behind all those people who can stand up unaided. I’ll patiently stare at your backs, whilst sat on my pressure sores.
I can imagine this world but I can’t make a single deliberate movement without the aid of a carer.
Even if I had some cash for a travel ticket I would have to buy two, one for me and one for the person who lifts me on and off the loo. I cannot hold a cup of tea let alone eat strawberries and cream with all those, who, through a twist of fate, ended up with working limbs when I did not.
What are your plans for summer? I sincerely wish you a good time. I am not saying do not have fun, but please consider, for a moment, those for whom a spontaneous crazy weekend camping at some cool festival is simply impossible because our wheelchairs would sink in the mud.
My name is Myah Richards. I am 24 and I live in New Greens, St Albans. I have cerebral palsy. I am legally blind. I am wheelchair bound. I suffer from dystonic tremors and functional neurological disorders which lead to seizures and let’s be real, vomiting. Oh and I get pretty depressed too if I’m going to be this honest.
But that’s not the worst bit. You see, I’m not stupid. My brain’s as good as yours. I am capable of holding my own in any conversation you want to have with me. Try it sometime. I have my own opinions, and views and have the same desires, dreams of most 24 year olds but where you might zoom off to your Air BnB in Dorset for the weekend, realistically, that’s never going to be possible for me.
When it all gets too much for me, I can’t go to the Luton Hoo for a spa weekend; my retreat is under my duvet. So, I’m trapped. I am you but without all the functioning body parts. Imagine being 24 and not being able to do the basics without someone you hardly know giving you a hand with you know what.
Clearly, you don’t want a sob story, but I think you owe me to at least read to the end; it’s taken me a day to write this. I don’t want your sympathy but in the words of Bob Geldof, I want your money.
Like, maybe, 1/20 of the ticket cost to Glastonbury. Here’s why.
I have had all my respite care money cut. Social care is in a mess.
My mum has to look after me at night time often not going to bed till 2pm. This is seven days a week, 52 weeks a year. I want to give her a break. I would like a break. My duvet needs a break.
I would like to raise the money to go to the Mersea Island Festival in Essex, which is a festival for disabled people where I will be as free and independent as I can possibly be given my multiple conditions. I will be able to cavort at a nightclub, skipper a boat, climb a hill, experience a sail board, and fire arrows at the people who have ruined social care, sorry, day-dreaming again, I mean, at targets of hay.
I will be able to do arts & crafts and African drumming and go fishing. (I’m not going to go fishing, what would I do that for when there’s a chance of a party!) I will be free to stay up late and sleep in if I want to and I’ll be with other people who totally accept me for who I am; I’m not saying you guys would not but let’s face it, meeting me for the first time, you probably would treat me differently to other able bodied people.
Wouldn’t you?
I’d love to be wrong.
For me to go to the Mersea Island Festival and give my mum a 10 day break I need to pay for both me and my carer. I need to pay for my travel and her travel, my accommodation and her accommodation. I have to pay for everything twice.
I have already raised £1,000 of the £4,000 I need. Please can you help me. I don’t mean to be rude but I say it as I see it. There’s a lot of big cars in St Albans (usually parked in such a way that I can’t get my wheelchair past but I’ll forgive you) and a lot of big houses that display great wealth and success. Again, I’m not saying you have to stop having fun on my account but could you donate the price of a round of drinks or the cost of half a tank of fossil fuel to my cause and share a little of your good fortune?
Imagine if our roles were reversed. How would you feel having to write this article basically begging for donations so you can give your knackered mum a break and you can have a short holiday in Essex – where let’s face it, it’s going to rain most of the time anyway. Ha! But I don’t mind. It will be better than under my duvet in New Greens.
Can you please donate £20 to help me and my mum get a break from each other before we kill each other!
Thank you. Thank you very much.
To donate please use this link: https://bit.ly/3Lbxfxr
