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I break things on sight. There is almost nothing I've owned that I haven't destroyed within days of having it. The Girl thinks I give off some kind of electro-magnetic charge that does bad things to mobile phones and computer equipment, but that doesn't explain all the smashed cereal bowls, chipped table legs, scratched DVDs, books with ripped covers, radiators with broken dials and scratched-up doorframes that I've caused. I'd like to blame dyspraxia and hypermobility-related proprioception problems - but these are really just nice ways of saying I'm a terrible klutz.

This is why it's not a good thing that I've acquired a brand new laptop and a brand new wheelchair in the same week. I mean, it's actually really great. The laptop has been paid for by the compensation that a certain north London local council had to pay me because it took them so long to do a tiny, fifteen-minute adaptation to my side gate that I was unable to leave my flat without help for five sodding months. As much as I'd have preferred five months of good access, I'm very pleased with the computer. I just picked up the wheelchair yesterday - it was mainly paid for by the sometimes-wonderful, sometimes-appallingly-useless, in this case wonderful, people at Access to Work. She's green and lovely and extremely zoomy and I have a name in mind but I'm getting to know her first. So far, I have managed not to kill the laptop, although it's only a matter of time, and it's already beginning to live up to its name (Mr. Crashy IV - why yes, my other impairment is an irritating compulsion to name inanimate objects). And while I'm very proud that I spent a whole day rolling around work in my chair today and managed not to crash it into anything (despite the fact that it really likes to move), I've already done something apparently irreparable to one of the bolts that loosens the adjustable handles. Meaning that one handle is so low on the chair that my PA will not be pushing me anywhere tomorrow, unless she wants to break various health and safety rules and wobble down the street like a rather tall weeble. In the meantime, that formidable but creaky powerchair Marvin is off being fixed - I broke him when I fell off the bus ramp. Seriously. How many mobility aids does one very clumsy girl need? And more to the point, how many can she break at once?

My clumsiness isn't that much of an issue, compared to some associated with my impairment, but I find it really hard to work around. I don't like it when people stare because I can't find my bearings well enough to push myself through a doorway; I'm bored of having to buy new stuff because I dropped the old stuff onto kitchen floor tiles; tipping soup all over the staff room is embarassing; and I'd quite like wrists and fingers that do what I tell them to - not to mention feet that will go one-in-front-of-the-other without walking me into a wall. So I've decided that I'm just not going to pick anything up anymore, or there will be nothing left. Hmm. If I tell my social worker that, d'you think she'll give me a few more Direct Payments hours a week? Can you break a ridiculously efficient PA? Must go - there's soapy water pouring out of the dishwasher and all the lights have just gone out.

• Visit . Unless it's broken.