The Built Environment: Where Accessibility Crumbles By Dusty Wentworth
From broken paths to outdated laws, here's what's still falling short for wheelchair users in Britain.
The Illusion of Progress
We’re told the future is accessible. But for many of us, it still isn’t.
Government and businesses love to highlight their progress on disability access, from new digital legislation to step-free train stations. But for wheelchair users, the lived reality often tells a different story—one of patchy infrastructure, outdated attitudes, and policy decisions that undermine the very freedoms they claim to support.
Every day, as a full-time wheelchair user and a father, I encounter countless barriers. I see the cracks everywhere: in disabled bays with no room to get my kids out, in broken pavement ramps, in public toilets that are too small to turn around in. And while there’s a glimmer of hope with new legislation like the European Accessibility Act (EAA) 2025 focusing on digital access, it starkly highlights how far we still have to go in the physical world.
The UK isn’t legally bound by the EAA post-Brexit—but British businesses that serve EU customers will still need to comply. This might lead to some improvements, especially online. But real accessibility isn’t just about websites; it’s about lived experience—and that’s where we’re still being left behind.
EAA 2025: Digital Progress, Physical Paralysis
June 28, 2025, marks the implementation of the European Accessibility Act (EAA), aiming to revolutionise digital access across the EU by setting minimum requirements for websites, apps, banking systems, ticketing machines, and e-commerce platforms.
Although the UK no longer follows EU law, UK-based companies selling to EU consumers will still need to comply. This could lead to real benefits, especially for people with fatigue or mobility limitations who rely on digital tools to manage daily life.
But while digital access inches forward, the physical world continues to fail us dramatically. The data paints a grim picture of the daily obstacles we face:
Over 40% of UK railway stations lack step-free access to all platforms (ORR, 2023).
Only 52% of UK local authorities meet basic accessibility standards for pavements (Scope, 2022).
Less than 30% of UK public sector websites fully comply with accessibility standards (AbilityNet, 2024).
Ticket machines might meet EAA standards—but what use is that if the station entrance is up three steps, the toilet is too small, or the nearest dropped kerb is 50 metres away?
True accessibility cannot exist in a vacuum; digital strides mean little without tangible, physical inclusion.
Dehumanising Policy: The Fight for Mobility Rights
Imagine relying on a device for your freedom, only for the government to label it an “invalid carriage.” The UK government’s proposed updates on powered mobility aids suggest certain electric wheelchairs may soon require licences and insurance—based on outdated classifications. Even worse, these chairs are still officially referred to by this demeaning term.
“Wheelchair users are not vehicles—they are people with a right to move freely. This kind of language and regulation undermines that basic truth.”
— Wheelchair Alliance, 2024
The implications of this archaic approach are severe, impacting tens of thousands:
Over 90,000 people in England rely on powered chairs (NHS England, 2023), with demand rising due to neurological and muscular conditions.
Requiring licences and insurance would introduce cost, stress, and red tape to people already facing immense barriers.
The terminology alone reflects a deep cultural problem—one that treats mobility aids as a nuisance to regulate, not a necessity to support.
On a personal level, this terminology is not just outdated; it’s profoundly dehumanising. It sends a clear message: that the very tool enabling my freedom is legally defined as 'invalid'.
We deserve policy that supports our freedom—not restricts it.
NHS Wheelchair Services: A Postcode Lottery of Delays and Disregard
For many wheelchair users across the UK, accessing essential equipment isn’t a right—it’s a postcode lottery. Some people receive proper assessments and timely equipment, while others are left waiting months—or even years—for what the Wheelchair Alliance calls a basic necessity.
Increasingly, NHS trusts are outsourcing these vital services to private mobility companies. These companies assess, recommend, and supply the chairs, often under strict cost-cutting pressures. This creates a quiet yet devastating conflict of interest where your independence often becomes someone else’s savings target.
1 in 3 users wait more than 18 weeks for a powered chair or major repair (NHS England, 2023).
40% of disabled people say their NHS wheelchair needs are not being met (Scope, 2022).
Waits of 12 months or more for specialist chairs or adjustments are not uncommon.
And when your chair breaks? You wait again.
I’ve lived this exhausting reality—waiting for repairs, chasing updates, trying to remain patient while effectively losing my mobility. It’s not just inconvenient; it’s demoralising and entirely preventable.
A wheelchair isn’t a luxury—it’s an extension of your body. The NHS must treat it accordingly.
Parking:
Many “disabled bays” are a cruel joke – hatched markings on one side only, leaving no room to open both doors, no consideration for parents like me who need space to get children in and out. No dropped kerbs. No consistency. No dignity.
Pavements:
Cracked surfaces, steep cambers, advertising boards, parked cars, and council e-scooters all turn a simple journey into a safety risk. I’ve nearly been tipped out of my chair more than once. That’s not access. That’s danger.
Public Transport:
Buses still only take one chair at a time—if the driver decides to stop.
Trains require “assisted travel” bookings, but assistance often fails to turn up.
1 in 4 disabled people avoid public transport entirely due to inaccessibility (Scope, 2022).
The Outdoors:
And the outdoors? Forget it. Beaches and countryside paths are largely inaccessible to most wheelchair users. Our freedom of movement literally ends where the tarmac does.
You don’t realise how excluded you are until you try to live normally—and find out, again and again, that the world was never built for you.
Beyond Compliance: Towards Genuine Commitment
We hear a lot about “compliance”—meeting minimum legal requirements. But compliance alone isn’t commitment.
A bus with a ramp still leaves you behind if the space is taken. A public toilet that ticks the accessibility box still excludes you if your chair can’t turn around. A website that passes WCAG standards still fails if it causes sensory overload or takes too much energy to use.
Beyond the physical and emotional toll, there's the crippling financial burden of being disabled. For example, I'm currently trying to save for a Copilot+ PC, a necessity due to my neurological condition that makes using a standard laptop nearly impossible. Yet, being disabled already costs me nearly £1,100 a month—and my Personal Independence Payment (PIP) covers just £750. That significant shortfall has to come from somewhere, on top of our family’s already strained living costs.
What good is compliance when the tools to participate are priced out of reach, with no government support?
We’re not asking for favours. We’re demanding equal footing—on the pavement, in the workplace, online, on the train, and yes, even at the beach.
“True accessibility isn’t about box-ticking. It’s about recognising people’s right to live fully, move freely, and be treated with dignity.”
What You Can Do
If this resonates with you, don’t let it end here. Your voice matters.
Email your MP: Ask what concrete steps they’re taking to improve accessibility—both locally and nationally.
Share this post: Help raise awareness. Challenge indifference. Spark conversation.
Stand with us: Because when society becomes more accessible for disabled people, it truly becomes better for everyone.
Access isn’t a luxury. It’s the foundation of a life worth living.
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