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A Day at Naidex — and Why Visibility Isn't Always What You Think

  • Writer: brinkburn6
    brinkburn6
  • Mar 30
  • 5 min read

Updated: 2 days ago

Audience watches a presentation on Naidex Main Stage. Purple banners, speaker, and sign language interpreter visible in a large hall.

I hadn’t been to NAIDEX for a long time. Years, in fact. So when I wheeled into the NEC in Birmingham last week, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

What I found was extraordinary. And not just for the reasons you might think.


Standing or sitting room only

I was there to speak. Three of us on a stage — me, Simon Minty, and Abbie Brown — on the subject of employment. The stage was open to the exhibition floor. There were stands all around us, people rolling by, the general hubbub of a busy trade show. Acoustically, it wasn’t the Royal Albert Hall.

But the session was packed. Standing room at the back. People craning to hear over the noise.

Between us, we covered a lot of ground. I talked about my early working life — the barriers my generation faced, the closed doors, the assumptions, the sheer effort required just to be considered. Simon, who is in his fifties, talked about his own journey: the early struggles and the way opportunities gradually opened up. And then there was Abbie.


Abbie Brown was born three years after the Disability Discrimination Act was passed in 1995. She has never known a world without that legislation. Her experience of employment is different from ours — shaped by rights and protections we didn’t have when we were starting out.

And yet. When all three of us got to talking about the future, we found ourselves in the same place. Because the job is nowhere near done. Disabled people still face extraordinary barriers in finding work, staying in work, and being genuinely included once they get there. The legislation changed the landscape. It didn’t level it.


There were nods of recognition from the audience — the kind you get when something lands, when someone says out loud a thing you’ve been thinking quietly for years. We had to stop exactly on time because the next speakers were waiting in the wings. There could have been more questions. There was more to say.


I think all three of us came away feeling quietly pleased. It went well. Sometimes it just does.


Rolling fifteen yards

Then Simon and I went to explore the show. Simon on his scooter, me in my powered chair. The Way We Roll — quite literally.


Here’s the thing about Simon Minty. He’s my friend, my longtime colleague and, for ten years, my co-host on The Way We Roll podcast. He’s also, as it turns out, a bona fide television celebrity. He’s been a regular on Gogglebox for four years now, and he's incredibly popular.


We could not roll fifteen yards without someone stopping us.


Several people knew both of us from the podcast, which was lovely. Ten years of talking about disability into a microphone and people actually listen. Who knew. But Simon’s Gogglebox fame operates on a different level entirely.


“Aren’t you off Gogglebox?”


And then the phone would come out. And Simon would smile — genuinely smile, every single time —pose for the selfie, chat for a moment, say something nice, and the person would wheel away beaming.


It happened again. And again. And again.


It was delightful to watch. It was also, I have to say, exhausting. Simon never once looked anything other than delighted to be recognised. I’m not sure I would’ve managed it. I was also wonderng about how much money I could make as his agent.


But it got me thinking. Simon is visible to millions of people each week because he’s on television. They feel they know him. They light up when they see him. That’s one kind of visibility.


What about the other kind?


The couple nobody knows

Later in the day, I got talking to a young couple, Rachel and Logan.


No stand. No display. Just two people — and a very young baby — having conversations with whoever would stop. And behind them, the story of five years of work that I think more disabled people need to hear.


Their business is called Platinum Mobility. What they do is simple in concept and significant in practice. They buy, refurbish and sell powered wheelchairs. Not cheap plastic alternatives. Proper chairs — the same brands you’d find in any specialist supplier. Sunrise Quickie. Permobil. Pride. They service each one, test it, safety-check it, and sell it with a warranty.


At a fraction of the cost of new.


Their customers are saving thousands of pounds. Thousands. On chairs that work just as well as the new equivalent sitting in a showroom somewhere.

I asked them about their journey — how they’d got here, why they’d started, what it had been like. It’s a proper story. A couple who spotted something the market wasn’t doing and decided to do it themselves. Building something from scratch, with a baby on the way, in a sector that isn’t always easy to navigate.


I sat there listening and felt two things simultaneously.


Admiration. And annoyance at myself.


Because I have just ordered a brand-new powered wheelchair. Paid full price. Didn’t know they existed. Nobody told me. I’d never heard of Platinum Mobility before I rolled into the NEC yesterday and fell into conversation with them.


Why not?


The visibility gap

That’s the question I keep coming back to.


Let me be clear about Simon first. What he’s doing on Gogglebox isn’t just entertainment — though it is very entertaining. Week after week, millions of people watch a person of short stature being funny, sharp, opinionated and completely at ease on their screens. That changes things. Quietly, gradually, it shifts what people expect disabled people to be like. That’s not trivial. That’s representation doing exactly what it’s supposed to do.


And yes, people stop him every fifteen yards for a selfie. He’s earned every one of them.

But here’s what struck me. In the same afternoon, I met a young couple who are transforming the financial reality for wheelchair users across the country — and almost nobody knows they exist.


That’s the visibility gap I’m talking about. Not a competition between telly and trade. Both matter. It’s just that one of them is seen and celebrated, and the other is doing extraordinary work in near-total obscurity.


We don’t always have to pay £10,000 for a new power chair when a refurbished one at a fraction of the price might do the job just as well. More disabled people need to know that.


NAIDEX reminded me how much talent, energy and sheer determination exists in this community.


Three people on an open stage. Ten years of a podcast. And Rachel and Logan a couple with a baby, no stand, just a conversation and a business card, quietly getting on with it.


Different things. All important. All worth knowing about.


Go and have a look: platinummobility.uk

 

Phil Friend OBE is a disability consultant, speaker, and co-host of The Way We Roll podcast with Simon Minty.

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