Pensioner envy

Now, I appreciate that there isn't quite the same consumer demand for three-wheeled walking frames - tri-walker or whatever else you might call it (anything but the 'z' word) - as there is for my fantasy automobile (an Audi TT). However, I do want my mobility aid to look cool, and to date I haven't seen steel piping being held up as this year's new thing on the catwalks during London Fashion Week.

So imagine my disquiet when, ambling out of Sainsbury's one Saturday morning, I spotted an 'old dear' tottering in my direction with a blue tri-walker. Not only was it new - the colour nicely matching her duck-egg pac-a-mac - but the brakes on hers appeared to be fully functional as well.

I stared dismally at my frayed cables masquerading as brakes, patched up with yellow bicycle tape by a mate whom I'd bribed with chocolate. No, I'm not into artily customising walking frames; I'm just sick of zooming perilously down hills, with the brakes being for decorative purposes only. Why couldn't I have one of these flashy little numbers?

Then it all started to get a bit surreal. Round the corner appeared another granny figure, toddling along with an equally cool red frame. At this point I began to wonder if I'd stepped into an episode of Monty Python, and whether the shopping precinct was about to be invaded by NHS issue walking aids.

Dashing furtively along, now paranoid that I was a fashion faux pas on legs, it was my relief not to see even so much as a designer walking stick as I came to the end of the high street.

I decided that I wasn't about to be upstaged by a pensioner. It was time to upgrade.

I visited the mobility aid shop and browsed through the catalogue peppered with smiling senior citizens sporting bouncy perms. I discovered I could choose any colour I wanted as long as it was red, green, blue or the classic surgical-looking silver. Tri-walkers are made of more lightweight materials these days, and have height-adjustable handles.

Getting into the swing of things, I unscrewed the bolt on the right handle of my frame (the plastic on the other one snapped off long ago) to have a play. It wouldn't budge. "That's because it has rusted, madam," said the shopkeeper. Whoops.

I admit that the most servicing I've ever given my frame is a quick squirt of WD40 when it has developed an irritating squeak - but hey, I'm not one of those people who buffs and waxes their car on a Sunday morning either. Don't they realise they could be having a lie-in and reading the papers in bed instead?

My tri-walker - or 'Wheelybopper' as it was affectionately christened for reasons I can't remember (well, it sounds much better than zimmer frame) - has been pretty sturdy to last this long. It's been pushed through a lake in South Africa, wheeled along the Great Wall of China, ambled through New Zealand forests, been drenched in a Caribbean thunderstorm and had numerous pints of beer spilt over it in smoky nightclubs.

It's had a long life and been a trusty servant, and now I think it has earned itself a quiet retirement. It won't be long until my fifteen-year-old frame can have a holiday from being lumped in and out of a car boot or toppling over when weighed down with an over-heavy basket in the supermarket.

Oh yes. I am now awaiting delivery of my blue, lightweight, super-brakes model so I can look any pensioner straight in the eye. I've not gone for the optional extras of a bag or basket, but do think that the manufacturers missed a trick by not offering an inbuilt MP3 player. Or all-terrain wheels.

Some strange creatures think a tri-walker should come with a seat. I've lost count of the number of times I've gone into a restaurant and the waiter/waitress has taken the chair away. What do they expect me to do - perch on the handles? Whip out a portable seat of the type you can buy from Sunday supplement catalogues?

Gone gone gone is the old metallic Wheelybopper - at least, until I wear clothes that clash with blue. Surgical silver could then undergo a renaissance.

As Trinny and Susannah say, choosing the right accessories for an outfit is vital.

I'm on the lookout for a lilac frame complete with handbag holder. Ford stopped producing cars in a black-only, fully functional design decades ago. If Kylie can have her very own convertible Ka, why can't I have my own top of the range 2004 Wheelybopper? With that, I'd leave the pensioners in the shade.