It was like the blind leading the blind

I should have probably smelt a rat the day before. Julien had been away to Normandy France for a week and the break by the sea had done him a world of good. His severe epilepsy which tends to come in clusters had also taken a week off and he’d returned feeling fit and rearing to go. Sadly back in Blighty, he soon overworked uploading something onto our website and the old bugbear soon put him down with a big grand-mal. Like any manager I should have rested him at this point but depleted in numbers and reliant on his knowledge and skills, we went ahead regardless.

We’d all piled into a black cab with all the equipment and headed for the destination. Julien seemed a little forgetful and was quickly wittering on about forgetting his water (he’s always worrying about dehydration) but we were excited by the forthcoming job. All of us have a gallows sense of humour to our disabilities and we were soon joking and laughing about the worst case scenario if it all went wrong with Julien prone on the floor in seizure, me pissing myself because of my dodgy bladder and James being left to pick up the pieces without a clue about what to do. Even the taxi driver was chortoling away at the vision. As I gazed from the window, squashed like some Victorian circus exhibit against it, at the masses of people milling around Piccadilly Circus, I felt confident we could pull it off. What could possibly go wrong.

Arriving at the club, I sorted out the taxi fare whilst James & Julien off loaded all the gear taking it down to the lounge where the fashion show was to be. By the time I had negotiated the lift the organiser was already showing the lads where to set up. We’d been allocated a space at the foot of the catwalk, obviously the prime position as we were the only film crew. A number of photographers were also there already snapping away at the models, who were practising their routines for later on.

The organiser was keen for us to set up quickly and get rid of any excess bags as he was expecting a big crowd. This suited me as it would give James plenty of time to get to know his Sony camera. The organiser had told the designers would buy our footage so we had agreed to do the show for free. It was important therefore to get some varied film from the side and head of the catwalk so we could produce the best possible film utilising two cameras simultaneously, with Julien and his superior Canon XF305 getting the all important face on coverage.

The organiser who was very business like saddled up beside me and started explaining how much I should charge the six designers who were fronting mainly summer wear designs and lingerie. He was quick to reveal that all of them were stinking rich and would pay good sums of money for the footage. This got me intrigued I’d been thinking about flogging our finished films for a maximum of £200 each netting us a tidy profit, so when he said charge nothing less than a £1000 for each video, I nearly fell out of my wheelchair.

As the sounds of kerching echoed round my head and Julien scurried around looking for something, I tried to distract my eyes from the scantily clad models parading in their thongs and panties, thinking to myself – this is going to be a good night.

Brutally woken from my dream of my hacienda in Spain gazing at the azure mediterenean with a glass of rioja in hand I suddenly had Julien in my face babbling on that we had a technical issue – a sudden veil of dread immediately enveloped me. He’d somehow forgotten to bring the attachment to the tripod for the main camera and said he had to return to Fulham to get it.

I knew this was a bad idea. Firstly we only had an hour before the event started so it would touch and go if he got back in time but more importantly the journey would stress him out leaving him vulnerable to a seizure. I tried to reason with him about alternative options but he was fearful the quality of the film would suffer and was adamant he had to go. With that like Willow the wisp he was gone leaving James and I staring at each other a gasp with all the equipment, which neither of us knew how to use.

The organiser seemed a little concerned but I reassured him everything would be cool for the kick off as I disappeared to the disabled toilet to recalibrate my head. The actual toilet was surrounded by tables and chairs but as I normally pee into a bottle I keep handy it wasn’t to much of a problem, until I poured the contents into a sink which hadn’t been plumbed in, resulting in urine cascading everywhere. This whole thing was now going from bad to worse as I exited the toilet to find James mouthing at me ‘What the fuck is going on?’

Luckily though it appeared the show was going to start late. Julien had texted me from Earls court which gave me a little comfort that he would make it back in time, so James and I tried to look professional glancing at the stairs hoping to see Julien suddenly come bounding down them holding the missing piece like he had found a nugget of gold. In my mind I was mapping his journey but was desperate for an update as more high end clients arrived and we were introduced to them as the film crew, which in the circumstances was a little embarrassing.

I tried to call him a couple of times but there was no signal, I assumed he had to be on the Piccadilly line getting close. On the third attempt I got through and he answered. I expected him to say I’ll be with you in five minutes, but instead his voice seemed strange with little coordination. It immediately reminded me of my Dad when he was having a hypo because of his type 1 diabetes and I knew something was wrong. Almost immediately the phone had been passed to a paramedic who told me Julien was ok but had a bad seizure at Fulham Broadway. I knew the game was up then and wished my Star Trek walkie talkie was handy so I could scream at Scotty to ‘Beam me up’. I gave the medics Julien’s address as they kindly said they’d give him a lift home, hanged up and started plotting our extraction.

Luckily the organiser was quite understanding once I wheeled up to him and explained Julien’s predicament and happy to accept medical emergencies take precedent. I felt bad for him and at the missed opportunity for us, but relieved I hadn’t had to play the disability immunity card too much. He seemed more concerned about clearing the space of our equipment which suited me fine as he dashed off to welcome more guests. James then loaded me up and after another precarious journey in the lift, we got the equipment up top and hailed a passing taxi. Unlike the filming the exit from the club had been near perfect.

For the next 10 minutes I let rip with a fuselage of expletives borne out of frustration at our misfortune before Julien phoned saying he was on his way back. Admiring his fortitude I told him to stand down as we’d done a runner and we’d drop the equipment back at his gaff. I soon calmed down and James and I were both soon laughing not all at Julien’s expense I might add, but how we must have come across as the three stooges or something. We hadn’t honoured our company or disabled people and we vowed never to be caught out again.

As we passed Fulham Broadway centre, I noticed there was an ambulance parked outside, I wondered if Julien was still in it, but he was waiting outside his house when we pulled up two minutes later. He had little recollection of what had happened and had walked back home, meaning the paramedics were probably still searching for him back at the station. Besides of a nasty bruise on his chin courtesy of a Henry Cooper right hand or his earlier fall he appeared quite lucid. I told him I’d call in the morning leaving him with James to get everything indoors and limped home in the taxi for a much needed beer and spliff.

As I pondered what had happened back indoors, savouring the hop and drawing the herb, with Julie my dear wife lambasting me for failing to think outside the box, I realised that the evening and her words might actually have done me a favour. The philosopher/general Sun Tzu wrote the Art of War an acclaimed piece of literature. In it he. said to win any battle you have to know your enemy, but more importantly you have to know yourself. It’s philosophy can be interpreted into any life situation. I felt I’d failed its premise for not qualifying the teams limitations and poo-pooing any doomsday scenarios. My own authority and direction was weak and therefore it had cost us.

I spoke to Julien in the morning to allow the dust to settle. Epilepsy is such an unpredictable condition and a cluster of seizures not only puts him out of sync but in the long term is highly dangerous. Not that I want to be his mother but I have to able to read him better and ensure he is taking his medication so that he has longer plateaus of remission. He is pivotal because of the equipment, his knowledge and his incredible film making skills.

At the same time I have to safeguard our own vision of a functioning, capable team of disabled people and responsibility to our growing client list. We have a number of jobs booked one of which is live streaming the acclaimed opera singer Joseph Callejo in June. Subsequently all the team including myself will be having intensive training on all the equipment, so no-one is left in the dark. I’m also going to bring my nephew into the team.Thankfully he is not disabled, apart from his affliction to Tottenham Hotspur, and is an excellent film maker. It means we’re be able to react accordingly to any technical issues or ‘Medical emergencies’, delivering our service without fault. Even if Julien is flat out on the floor -The show must go on.

So it’s been a baptism of fire but as a true believer that all events are part of the jigsaw and happen for a reason, then it has been a lesson well learnt and one to build upon.