A really long rant, not worth reading unless you’re totally bored

Back in March I wrote about some of my experiences volunteering with a charity and how some recipients of aid expect, and take, more than their fair share to the detriment of the genuine. Without fear, I called them wheelchair-wankers. Go read that post if you don’t remember it.

The day I wrote it I was setting out on a 2 hour drive to deliver fixtures and fittings to a respite home. A home funded by the Kildare branch of the charity at great expense. I’ve been there a few times since to put in a washing machine and dryer, assemble garden furniture and other odd jobs. And I must say I’m impressed. Located in a beautiful area of Wexford, it is fully wheelchair accessible and equipped with everything a body could need. Even cleaning materials and linen are provided. Visitors need only bring food, toiletries and clothing. A cleaner comes by a few times a week so no-one need worry about heavy chores like hoovering or washing floors. Even though not required, the cleaner runs errands and acts as local tour guide.

The rules for booking are simple. Up until the end of May only members of the local branch may put their names down for a week’s stay. Fair enough. After all, it was the local branch that paid for it. Thereafter, if there are free slots remaining, members from other branches can avail of them. No-one is charged a cent. All that is asked is that they move in after 3pm on the Saturday and vacate before noon the following one; that they replace anything they break; that they leave it as clean and tidy as their level of ability allows.

I happened to be there the day a lady arrived assisted by her sister, Mary. Susan hadn’t had a holiday for five years or so, more out of fear of being out of her environment although money played a part too. To see the joy on her face, her eyes light up and a tear appear made all those long drives worthwhile. She and I sat for an hour drinking tea and swapping dirty jokes while Mary busied herself about the place. It was only when I got home I was told that Sue’s sister Mary was also Sister Mary which explained why she excused herself to go dress the bed a number of times. There was me thinking she had OCD or something.

Most visitors were like Susan and ranted and raved about what an excellent facility is was and what a wonderful time they’d had. But just like the Tayto ad, there’s always one.

A woman from the Dublin branch booked the last week in July. She phoned later to change this to the first week in August. But that slot was already taken. But I have to go in August. I got a letter from Wexford County Council and my meeting with them about building a house is in August not July like I thought. She was insistent that the person booked for August swap. Fair play to the co-ordinator she didn’t give in. If someone was merely using the facility as free accommodation she would not jump through hoops for them.

When she moved in that Saturday in July (obviously having rescheduled her personal business with the council) the phone calls began. The garden seats are not where I’d like them and some idiot has chained them in place. The idiot (the one writing this) chained them to prevent them being stolen on the advice of the locals she was told. The cleaner has a key and can arrange to reposition them. Well ring her to come over. She’d better come now because I’m going out soon.

Two or three phone calls each day for the week. The kettle was too small. The place was too far from the beach and somewhere closer should have been bought instead. There was no washing line and she didn’t like using dryers. The local shop had a poor selection of foodstuffs and was expensive. Sunday mass was at 10 and she was used to going at 11.

The best was when she called to say she couldn’t fall asleep until dawn for fear of a break in. They all know around here that I’m disabled and I’m an easy target. People have come to the door. Explaining to her that in a small community everyone would know that a charity had bought the place, and that the locals were being kind by popping by to check that someone less able than themselves was okay, didn’t calm her.

A short while later it was noticed that a set of keys was missing. She had them. I held on to them for when I go back the end of August. The co-ordinator asked if was saying she’d like to book that week. I did book. It must have been with the other girl. There is no other girl. It was clear what her intention was. Given the bad summer, the place was idle a lot of weeks. We began to wonder if she’d been letting herself in when she was down for her council meetings. But we couldn’t tell for sure and the cleaner hadn’t noticed so she was allotted the week.

The cleaner called in a panic yesterday. The woman hadn’t left. In fact she had said her daughter and her kids were coming down and they’d be staying until Wednesday. But a man and his wife were arriving that afternoon. Repeated phone calls from the co-ordinator went unanswered. A call from my mobile (a number she would not have recognised) was answered immediately. But it’s September now. It’s out of season. I thought no-one else would be using it. But they are and you must vacate immediately she was told. Well I suppose I’ll have to then. My daughter will be here in a few minutes and just will have to turn around and take me straight back home. This is all very inconvenient. It is unacceptable and I will be making a complaint to head office about the way I’m being treated.

Now if there was ever a case for a good kick up the arse this is it. Even if it has to be administered through the seat of a wheelchair I’m volunteering. She didn’t return the keys this time either so I will be going down to change the locks this week. I’ll do the kicking on the way back. After a four hour drive on the N11, being pushed off the road by yellow reg’ed wankers, I will be so angry that I’ll have no fear of stubbing my toe on the bars of her chair.