We grow accustomed to our own lives. However strange they might seem to others, to us it’s just the same old routine.

We read celebrity magazines with envy, yearning for the glamour and the luxury, and throw coins tinged with pity to tramps in the street, wondering how they got there in the first place.

My life is far from what I dreamed it would be as a child. I couldn’t have written the twists and turns life would provide . . . and I’ve loved every minute!

I heard a theory called “boiled frog syndrome” the other day and it struck me as a great analogy for life. You see, the frog jumps into a pan full of cold water and paddles about happily. He’s so busy he barely notices the water slowly heating up because it happens over time, bit by bit. Sometimes, he notices the water getting a bit warm but he’s so busy muddling about in the water he soon gets used to it.

One day, he can’t help feeling how hot the water is but by the time he sees the bubbles it was too late . . . and that’s the end of the frog, boiled alive.

He could have hopped out at any time but he was so busy muddling along he barely noticed the heat until one day, there he was, sitting in a pan of boiling water, wondering how he got there.

And that’s how it is with me, like so many others. If we sat and made lists of the things we’ve lived through, it would sound worse than it felt. Over time I’ve grown used to living with my limitations, the operations I’ve had were not done to me, they are part of who I am. I could no more wish them away than wish myself away.

I’ve been the subject of some serious goodwill lately. Kind words have been said and kind deeds have been done and for my part I’d like readers to know that the most surprising and joyous twist my life has so far taken is to hear that my old waffle is making sense to someone, somewhere out there. If only occasionally . . .

I’m not giving a saying of the week today, but an apology of the week to the Wheelchair Service.

Readers may have got the impression that I was only offered a manual wheelchair by the WS when, in fact, I was also offered an electric wheelchair.

Without getting into the tedious intricacies of my medical needs and the long and winding list of NHS requirements that I still manage to fall outside of, neither of the options I was offered were ideal but the Wheelchair Service would like me to make it clear that they were still offered.

And I’ll make it clear too, that the WS are contributing £927, the cost of the manual chair they offered, towards the cost of my marvellous, mean, self-wheeling machine. So thanks Wheelchair Service, we know you do your best!