Read Online Stairlift to Heaven by Terry Ravenscroft - Free Book Online

probably this, and the thought I’d just had about cripples taking up their bed and walking, that put the idea into my head.
     After I’d gone to recover the Zimmer and started to walk back the man had stopped to watch, and now looked on, puzzled. I turned to him and said, a little self-critically, “Not bad.”
    His face was a picture of inquisitiveness. “What are you doing?”
    “Training for the Paralympics.”
    “Paralympics?”
    “Throwing the Zimmer Frame,” I explained. “Apparently the host country can pick an entirely new event and Britain has chosen ‘Throwing the Zimmer Frame’. It just nudged out the ‘Hop, Hop and Hop for the One-legged’ I believe.”
    I returned with the Zimmer to the spot from which I’d thrown it. Two twirls round my head and I launched it again. This time it went about five yards farther.
    “Better,” the man observed, encouragingly.
    “Yes, must be close to my PB that one,” I said, sounding pleased with myself. “That’s Personal Best,” I explained.
    “Yes I know, I’m a fan of athletics,” he said. He thought about it for a moment. “Can anyone enter?”
    I shrugged as though I didn’t really know. “Well I suppose. You’ll need a Zimmer Frame of course.” I had a thought. “It’s possible you could qualify for a grant - you might be able to get funding for one if you show you any promise, I’m sure I’ve heard of pole-vaulters getting grants for fibre glass poles.”
    I retrieved the Zimmer and made to throw it again.
    “Can I have a go?”
    I handed him the Zimmer. He drew his arm back and threw it as hard as he could. It landed a good ten yards farther than my last effort.
    “You’re a natural,” I said.
    “Wasn’t bad was it,” the man said, pleased with himself. “For a first stab at it.”
    First stab at it! I had him hooked. I commenced to reel him in. “I tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t you get a Zimmer Frame of your own and join me? Apparently there’s going to be an individual competition and a Pairs, one of you throws the Zimmer and the other one throws it back, sort of piggy in the middle but without the piggy. Then there’s a team event, the four man lob - I think that involves passing on the Zimmer to the next thrower like a baton, but we’d need another two for that. I train every morning at ten.”
    He said he’d be there the following day, prompt.
    Atkins, never a man to turn down the chance of a bit of fun, joined me for my next Throwing the Zimmer Frame training session at ten the following morning.
    Ever resourceful, Atkins already had his own Zimmer Frame, having picked it up at a charity shop some time ago in readiness for when the time comes when he’ll need one, and employed in the meantime in his back garden as a support for his climbing strawberries.
    We arrived at the park to find that the man whom I met yesterday, Mr Jefferson it transpired, was accompanied by two of his friends, who were also interested in training for the Throwing the Zimmer Frame 2012 Paralympics event. They looked to be aged about seventy. One was introduced as Mr Barnaby, the other, a Scot, was Mr Ross. It turned out that Atkins knew Mr Jefferson. He had been Atkins’s milkman years ago before he ran off with a woman from across the road - Mr Jefferson that is, not Atkins - which had forced Atkins into making his milk arrangements with the Co-op. Atkins mentioned this to him, and that he had been left milk-less and strawberry yoghurt-less for a time, and Mr Jefferson apologised profusely. Atkins said there was no need to apologise, if he himself had been running off with the woman from across the road the last thing he would have had on his mind would have been someone’s milk and strawberry yoghurt because she was a cracker. Mr Ross remarked what a small world it was, Mr Jefferson said it certainly wasn’t big enough because the cracker’s husband had found them and given him a right going over, and then we got down to some