A thesis submitted in partial fulfilment of - Etheses - Queen Margaret ...

mother did her best to discourage the relationship, describing me as „half-baked‟. To be
refused service in bars when I was completely sober “Because you‟ve had enough to drink
already,” was not unusual.
After gaining my degree in 1986, I got a job in Slough as a residential social worker with
young adults labelled as having learning difficulties. This job involved my first real contact
with disabled people. I recall particularly a number of occasions when milkmen came to
collect their money or when workmen came to work around the building. I would answer the
door. “Can I help you?” I would ask. “Can I speak to a member of staff, please?” came the
response. “I am a member of staff,” I replied. After a moment‟s hesitation the milkman or
workman would say “Yes, that‟s right... but can I speak to one of the nice ladies?” The
mother of one of the residents asked the manager who „the new boy‟ was, referring to me.
The organisation was in financial trouble and the residential home closed down shortly
afterwards.
A period of unemployment in Slough had such a dispiriting effect that I eventually conceded
to my father‟s suggestion to enquire about registering disabled. This was done with the
expectation I would get told no, I was not disabled, so I could finally get him to stop going
on about it. I turned up at the disablement resettlement officer‟s office at the Job Centre and
announced “I‟ve come to see about registering as disabled,” expecting this to be the start of a
formal process involving having to appear before a medical tribunal. She took one look at
me and said “Yes, you‟re disabled, all right.” I left her office five minutes later with a green
card and a registration number, SLR8812. I emerged from her office a disabled person.
It was with some surprise that I woke up the following morning to discover I was the same
person I had been before I was disabled or, more specifically, before I was registered
disabled. I came to own the word, but to regard it as saying something about me and my
impairments. It was part of a process that involved an increasing acceptance of myself as I
was, but that still remained rooted in a medical model understanding.
Registering as disabled did the trick in employment terms and I found myself a fortnight
later commencing employment as a clerical officer at Slough DHSS. This was, I soon
discovered, a tedious bureaucratic job I had neither interest in nor aptitude for. I left the job
at the earliest possible moment to return to higher education.
In Newcastle upon Tyne I encountered the disabled people‟s movement and underwent what
I consider one of the most important and positive changes in my life in terms of the way I
relate to myself. In a pub on Newcastle Quayside in April 1992 Geof Armstrong, the director
44