work you've done on your house, Mr. Miller. How long have you been working on it?
Mr. Miller: I first became interested in do-it-yourself several years ago. You see, my son Paul is disabled. He's in a wheel-chair and I just had to make alterations to the house. I couldn't afford to pay workmen to do it. I had to learn to do it myself.
Journalist: Have you had any experience of this kind of work? Did you have any practical skills?
Mr. Miller: No. I got a few books from the library but they didn't help very much. Then I decided to go to evening classes so that I could learn basic carpentry and electrics.
Journalist: What sort of changes did you make to the house? Mr. Miller: First of all, practical things to help Paul. You never really realize the problems handicapped people have until it affects your own family. Most government buildings, for example, have steps up to the door. They don't plan buildings so that disabled people can get in and out. We used to live in a flat, and of course, it was totally unsuitable. Just imagine the problems
a disabled person would have in your house. We needed a large house with wide corridors so that Paul could get from one room to another. We didn't have much money and we had to buy this one. It's over ninety years old and it was in a very bad state of repair.
Journalist: Where did you begin?
Mr. Miller: The electrics. I completely rewired the house so that Paul could reach all the switches. I had to lower the light switches and raise the power-points. I went on to do the whole house so that Paul could reach things and go where he wanted.
Journalist: What else did you do? Mr. Miller: By the time I'd altered everything for Paul, do-it-yourself had become a hobby. I really enjoyed doing things with my hands. Look, I even installed smoke-alarms.
Journalist: What was the purpose of that? Mr. Miller: I was very worried about fire. You see, Paul can't move very quickly. I fitted them so that we would have plenty of warning if there were a fire. I put in a complete burglar-alarm system.
It took weeks. The front door opens automatically, and I'm going to put a device on Paul's wheelchair so that he'll be able to open and close it when he wants.
Journalist: What are you working on now?
Mr. Miller: I've just finished the kitchen. I've designed it so that he can reach everything. Now I'm building an extension so that Paul will have a large room on the ground floor where he can work.
Journalist: There's a ￡10,000 prize. How are you going to spend it?
Mr. Miller: I am going to start my own business so that I can convert ordinary houses for disabled people. I think I've become an expert on the subject.
The first job I ever had was as a waitress. I did it the summer before I started at university, when I was eighteen. I was working in a very nice hotel in a small town in Scotland where there are a lot of tourists in the summer so they were taking on extra staff. I arrived there in the evening and met some of the other girls who were working at the hotel—we all lived in a little house opposite the hotel. Anyway, they were all really friendly and we had dinner together and then sat around
chatting and drinking coffee—I didn't get to bed until after one o'clock in the morning. I had to be at work in the dining room at seven thirty in the morning to start serving breakfast. Well, I didn't wake up 'til seven fifteen! So I threw my clothes on and rushed over to the hotel. I must have looked a real mess because the head waiter just looked at me and told me to go to the bathroom to tidy myself up—I was so embarrassed!
The first thing I learned was that there were these two heavy swing doors into the kitchen from the restaurant—one for going into the kitchen and one for going out, so that the waiters coming in didn't bump into the ones going out. Anyway, that morning I was so frightened of the head waiter that I didn't listen properly to what he was saying, so when one of the waiters asked me to give him a hand and take two plates of eggs and bacon and an orange juice out to the restaurant, I went straight towards the wrong door and collided with another waiter coming in! You can't imagine the mess—eggs, bacon and orange juice all over the floor, the door, the waiter and me. The other waiter thought it was quite funny, but the head waiter was furious and made me clear everything up straight away in case someone slipped and fell. After serving breakfast, at about ten o'clock, we had our own breakfast. I was starving by then,
and just wanted to sit down and eat quietly. But some of the waiters started making fun of my English accent—they were all Scottish. I think they were just trying to cheer me up and have a joke, but I was so upset and hungry that I just rushed off to the bathroom in tears! I thought everybody hated me! By the time I came back, they'd cleared up all the breakfast things, and I hadn't had a chance to eat anything!
Well, straight away we started getting the dining room ready for lunch—cleaning the silver, setting the tables, hoovering the floor. The room had a beautiful view over a river with the mountains behind, but of course, as soon as I stopped work to have a look out of the window, the head waiter spotted me and told me off again. I didn't make too bad a job of serving lunch—one of the waiters looked after me and showed me how to do things. One of the customers ordered some expensive white wine, and I gave him a bottle from the cupboard, not from the fridge, so it wasn't cold enough. But fortunately the other waiters hid the bottle I'd opened wrongly and I gave him another bottle from the fridge so the head waiter didn't find out. I would have been quite happy, but I had another problem which was that I'd got up in such a hurry I just put on the shoes I'd been wearing the night before. Well, these shoes looked quite smart but they had really