My best friend of 30 years died recently from a debilitating lung disease called Cryptogenic Fibrosing Alveolitis, which basically means he could walk 10 yards but then needed 10 minutes to catch his breath again, walking was not the problem; it was the breathing that proved tough.

Before he died his girlfriend, Andrea arranged a surprise trip to Venice for his 60th. Birthday. Venice as we all know is a place with lots of water, bridges, streets, alleyways, piazzas and generally a great place to go for long walks. However I also knew it's a place Michael had talked and dreamed about visiting for some 30 years, therefore it was game on.

Andrea organised the flights and asked Michael's doctor to provide a note stating that the 2 bottles of oxygen we were carrying was for breathing purposes and not for terrorist action. Then to warn the airline, easyJet about the said bottles.

One of my jobs was to book a hotel with a view; it had to be the Danieli. I made contact with them straight away. I emailed a lengthy note detailing Michael's health and how they might assist in making his stay easier.

I received an equally lengthy reply from the Front Office Manager, Filippo Bollani, the gist of it being, nothing was too much trouble, we would be met at Marco Polo Airport and transported by car to the dockside, where a private launch would speed us to the Hotel.

Next we needed to book a restaurant, where better than the Fortuny at the Cipriani. I made contact and booked a table at this very exclusive and expensive restaurant but what the heck it was a special trip and we were going to push the boat, or should I say launch, out.

Next I booked Harry's Bar for dinner.

And so came the day for us to travel. We arrived at the nearby East Midlands airport only to find there was no way we could drop Michael off with luggage at departure, instead we had to find the Medium Long Term car park, once done, Michael and I were abandoned at the bus stop while my wife, Janice went off with Andrea to find a parking spot. We regrouped at check in.

This was it. I have never flown Easyjet before, and at £25 return I was expecting nothing but trouble. How wrong can you be, there was no queue, the check in girl was smiling and friendly. And even when Andrea mentioned the oxygen, it was simply a matter of producing the doctor's note and we were through, amazing!

At security it was, as you might expect, a little different. I was carrying the 2 bottles of oxygen in a bag, as it went through the x-ray machine, a silence fell all around and all eyes turned to me. The biggest guy came over; he had a look of someone who had been waiting for this moment his entire career, 'What's in the bag'? 'Oxygen' I told him. 'Very funny. I see 2 metal canisters, sir, explain please.' 'What you see are 2 oxygen containers, for my friend, he's not very well.' And just when I though I was going to have the truth beaten out of me, Andrea appeared, with note and the 2 special passes provided at check in, we had completed stage 2.

Stage 3 was getting on the plane. We had paid an extra fiver for priority boarding, as Easyjet do not allocate seats, the queue was very short but when Andrea told them at the desk what we carrying, showed special passes, the doctor's note, we were put first in the queue, having a sick friend in your party was proving very useful.

The flight was great; you pay for your food and drink but given the cost of the flight, why not. Michael could not sit in the front seats, as only able-bodied people could have them.

At Marco Polo it was a short walk from the plane to arrivals. We stopped several times so Michael could catch his breath. A wheelchair would have made things a lot easier but for Michael this was obviously a huge psychological step to get over, he was exhausted by the time we reached the luggage turntable.

While he recovered, we gathered the bags. Out of arrivals a representative of the hotel met us.

The distance to the launch was less than a mile but there was no way Michael could have walked it.

Once in the launch, we were on our way; by now it was late afternoon and ahead of us we could see the lights of Venice.

We arrived at the Danieli to be met by porters and my new friend Filippo Bollani. He led us through into this 14th. Century palace once the home of Doge Dandolo. The reception, once an open courtyard was now lavishly appointed with pink marble, stained glass, gold leaf columns, Murano glass chandeliers and antiques.

We were impressed. But the best was yet to come. Once registered we were shown, not to the rooms I had booked, but to the Presidential suite, Filippo had upgraded us.

We had a huge elegant drawing room filled with antiques; there were two terraces where we could take in a lagoon view. Off this room were our stunning bedrooms.

Despite trying to stay cool in front of Filippo was a waste of time, this was like nothing we had ever experienced before, and this was how royalty live. As he explained how each of the 3 TV's work we were giggling away like children on Christmas morning.

And just when I though it couldn't get any better, he had left 2 bottles of champagne, chocolates, flowers and a mountain of fresh fruit. Janice was now thinking that they had somehow mistaken for somebody famous and once discovered we would be asked to leave, but she needn't have worried, this was it.

Once a bottle of champagne was drunk we decided to do a short stroll towards the Piazza San Marco, by now it was dark, cold and it was raining. The square was virtually deserted and silent, making it seem somehow hauntingly romantic.


The next morning the sun shone and the sky was blue. Michael agreed that he had to give in to the wheelchair or he'd see very little of Venice. He was very embarrassed at first, this was a first for him, and he's a fit man, and a regular visitor to the gym, as I helped him in his chair, the name Brian Potter sprang to mind. We set off to Florien's in the Piazza for breakfast.

The steps over the first bridge had ramps fitted but for some inexplicable reason it attracted able-bodied tourists, who ignored the steps, preferring instead to use the ramps and if that weren't stupid enough, they would then stop to take in the view or take a picture.

As I heaved and pushed upwards, they stared as if we were some sort of attraction. Going down the ramp was a scare, I tried to control it but it dragged us both down at high speed, the secret I later learned was to take it down backwards. No tourists were injured as during this event, mores the pity.

By the time we got to the café I was knackered. We sat in the sun and listened to the 4-piece orchestra play out Al Bowly tunes, it was magical.

Next was St.Mark's Basilica, the Cathedral of Venice. As we crossed the Piazza, pushing our way through thousands of pigeons, it did cross my mind to buy a bag of seed to scatter on Michael to see what would happen, but I dismissed the idea as bad taste, no matter how funny it might have been.

We joined the obligatory queue for some 30 minutes before arriving at the entrance, where 3 steps stopped us, Michael climbed out of his chair to step over them, I couldn't resist crying out 'It's a miracle, he can walk.' The murmurs behind us suggested that jokes about miracles were not funny.

There has been a church on this site since 832 and what you see today was completed in 1500 and you cannot help but be in awe of its dark interior, from the intricate mosaics that completely cover the floors in gold, bronze and the greatest variety of stones to the marble covered walls and pillars to the gold covered domes with more mosaics of angels. There's a lot to see and the temptation to abandon Michael in his wheelchair and explore was knocked on the head by Janice, pity.

From there we thought we would meander our way through the streets of Venice, by now the once quiet streets were teeming with hordes of Japanese tourists determined to photograph every square inch of the place regardless of anyone else, quickly followed by the Americans, who had the nasty habit of stopping dead in the middle of a narrow street to discuss lunch.

But with me at the helm of the chair no heel was safe as I pushed our way through with Andrea and Janice in our slipstream. In the end we had to give up, you can only go so far with a wheelchair, even with Michael climbing the steps over a small bridge, with the rest of us lifting the chair.

It was at this point that Andrea and Janice decided that I could no longer be trusted to behave calmly with a wheelchair, Andrea took over.

It was back to the quiet serenity of the Danieli and our complimentary afternoon tea, yet another fine gift from Filippo. We sat in what I suppose is the lounge but it was like sitting in Chatsworth, surrounding by elegance and opulence, it's the poshest tea I've ever had.

That evening it was time to experience the Cipriani. To get to it you have to make your way to their private dock and launch, this was no problem with Michael in his chair and the medieval streets empty of tourists. The launch was beautifully appointed, a young Italian couple joined us in the crossing, they looked as if they had just stepped out of Vogue magazine, very attractive and stylish.

The Fortuny restaurant was not particularly busy, but I thought we might have problems with the wheelchair, I had already decided that if it was to be a problem, I would simply leave Michael on the dockside until we had finished our meal. But nothing could have been easier, he was pushed to the table, moved to his seat and the chair removed, nothing was too much trouble. The food, service and atmosphere were just perfect. And so ended our second day.

We started the day early, once Michael had topped up on oxygen we set off for breakfast at Quadri's, like Florian's it too was in the Piazza San Marco and in the sunshine but the service was much better, friendlier and marginally less expensive, again there was an orchestra playing tune's from the 20's, the temptation to waltz around using Michael's wheelchair to create fancy spins was great, but I thought better of it.

In the afternoon I'd arranged with Filippo for a private tour of Venice, with a guide and a water taxi. It was expensive but it proved to be the best buy we've ever made.

Our guide Rebecca lived in Venice, she knew every street and building, and it wasn't just the well-known palaces on the Grand Canal, we explored the Venice where the locals live and hang out their washing. This was the perfect way to see everything Venice has to offer; the gondolas look great but can only travel short distances, so you don't get to see much. The public water taxis are good but packed with travellers and locals.

The private launch proved to be the best way, not just for Michael but also for us too. The tour lasted 2 hours, we saw everything without pushing through crowds, and it was a relaxing way to do Venice. We ended the afternoon with tea and biscuits; we were saving ourselves for Harry's Bar.

Harry's Bar opened in 1931 and is right on the St.Mark's bay waterfront. It is famous for the Bellini, a mixture of white peach juice and sparkling prosecco, named after a 15th.Cewntury Venetian painter Giovanni Bellini. It is a small but stylish place, getting a wheelchair in proved a challenge. The place is packed with people standing at the bar that is awkwardly by the door. Michael stood up and walked, I screamed 'It's a miracle' and the crowd parted.

We'd booked a table for dinner, we were shown upstairs, it was that or nothing, somehow Michael made it but it really took it out of him. I should add that with the ton of medication he has to take daily, drinking booze is out of the question. Naturally I helped him by describing in detail how delicious the wine was. The menu is limited to a few simple Italian classics, expertly executed, there's pasta with wild mushrooms or scampi all'Americaine (a tomato, herb and wine sauce); there's prawns with garlic, minestrone soup, tripe, risotto, tuna tartar and the house speciality, beef Carpaccio.

This place has a reputation for attracting A-list celebrities, we were told Woody Allen, Nicole Kidman and Helen Hunt eat there whenever they are in town. In the old days it was Ernest Hemingway, the Aga Khan, Orson Welles and Truman Capote. And when the Venice Film Festival is in town you have to be somebody to get a table. That said we thought it was over lit and over priced but it was a place we had to experience, it's done and we have been.

Our final morning was spent sitting at a café, suddenly I understood what the phrase 'wake up and smell the coffee' meant as we sat in the open air drinking it, and watching the world go by in their thousands.

The journey home was just as easy as our arrival. We all agreed that we had enjoyed every second of our short visit. As for the wheelchair, well we each learned a lot, we did see others in wheelchairs and appreciated how really tough it is to get around with one, but it shouldn't stop you from visiting one of the most beautiful places on earth.

Michael died 4 months after this trip, he had fulfilled a lifelong ambition and I'm so pleased we managed to do it before the disease prevented him from leaving his bed. He was the happiest I'd ever seen him. Life is fragile and short; I would urge everyone to enjoy each precious day.