My doctor, when a patient asks whether it is wise for him or her to travel, nearly always says, "Yes, it will do you good."

He takes the view that, unless it is obviously impossible or plainly dangerous, any patient who wants to go will be happier going. Only twice in his long career has he lost a patient. He still reckons that it was a good way for them to go and they might just as well have died if they had stayed at home.This is the principle I have always worked on. I live my life in a wheelchair, as I have muscular dystrophy, but I have been round the world many times. I have been blown up by a land mine in Mauritania, nearly drowned in Niger, robbed by bandits in Brazil, lost in the Saudi Arabian desert, embraced by a snake in Kenya, threatened by a bear in India, but I am still here, as John Major has been known to say.

Disability takes many forms. What is true for one person does not necessarily apply to the next, but my hope is that as many disabled people as possible will, as it were, have a go. They will have many agreeable surprises. For instance, who would guess that Bogotá is one of the best cities in the world for wheelchairs, almost every pavement carefully ramped? It is a pleasure to wander around, but I would carry a little mugging money with you.

Obviously, the easiest way to travel is by car, and I must admit that most of my major journeys have been by road, including 24,000 miles round South America in a Toyota Landcruiser, which involved 1,000 miles floating down the Amazon river for five days and nights on a barge, sleeping on the deck, under some lorries.

Air is my next preferred method of travel. This has improved immensely in the last few years. On the whole, I do not warn anyone of my situation when I buy a ticket, taking the view that disabled people should be able to do things on the spur of the moment, like everyone else. I just turn up at the airport and leave it to them. I have found that if one goes to a travel agent and alerts them, they create problems and ask for doctor's certificates to say one is fit to travel. I have seldom had trouble. Some years ago in Tunis, I was asked to sign an indemnity saying that if there were a crash and I impeded someone's escape, I would be liable. It seemed a reasonable chance to take.

Forgetting my own rules, not long ago in India I went myself into the airline office. They asked for a doctor's certificate. There was a doctor in the same street. For a few rupees, he wrote a certificate to my dictation.

Before landing, it is essential to check that the pilot has radioed ahead to ask for help to be ready at your destination. In more remote places, the airport may not have one of those narrow chairs for getting disabled people to their seats and up and down aircraft steps. On the other hand, in remote places, there are usually strong, helpful people ready and eager to carry you on and off the plane. If this could hurt you, it is worth checking beforehand. I have often been carried off upside down with all my change falling out of my pocket - to the delight of the helpers. If you are flying with your own chair, it is important to make sure they have put it in the hold. Taking off from Beirut once, I looked out of the window to see my chair sitting abandoned on the runway.

A major drawback to air travel is the impossibility of getting to the toilets. Fortunately, air travel is dehydrating and it is amazing what, with the help of a friend, can be achieved discreetly, by a man at least, under a rug - as I dare say members of the 'mile high club' would testify. Otherwise, a GP could give you advice about aids to incontinence.

Rail travel in Britain used to mean a chilly ride in the guard's van. These days, things have improved, but it is well to warn them ahead, especially when there is a question of taking a seat out to make room for your chair.