Let me tell you a happy story today.

Back in June, after six months of mainly sitting on my sofa looking out at life flying past without me, I was introduced to the idea of trikes, or more specifically, recumbent bicycles.

My physio mentioned a name to me, I got in touch and the next thing I knew, I was going up my street at a reasonable pace, bringing tears to the eyes of the man who had brought it to me and delight to many of my loved ones.

Have you ever had that dream where you need to be somewhere but your legs won’t move fast enough? Well that was me. Life in slow motion. I always say it’s teaching me patience, but honestly, the predominant feeling I have is frustration. So you can understand how amazing it felt to be speeding down the hill with the wind in my hair.

I had only been out twice when I decided I needed to have one of my own. After a few months, my brother-in-law drove down from Newcastle to Peterborough with his unwell father-in-law to pick the trike up. It was more than a three hour drive both ways. The next week my husband boarded the ferry and crossed stormy seas to get it from Newcastle. Another long drive. Yesterday, finally, it was here!

The man I bought it from conceded that his bad hip and his Parkinson’s were making it too difficult for him to continue. That sad news has made me all the more determined to go out as much as I can. He deserves it, the trike deserves it, I deserve it. And thanks to my parents, my aunt and a number of anonymous donors, I have found a way to fly!

So you see, it’s a tale of overwhelming kindness, heroism and dedication. Yet again. Today I am not feeling sorry for myself, I’m just feeling thankful.

Does that ring true for you too?