Do you know, London Aunt asked me if I could remember not being as deaf as I am now the other day, and it made me quite teary just thinking about it!
Obviously I pulled myself together relatively quickly, but in those first few moments where I contemplated that past, it was as though I was grieving an old friend.
I missed my hearing.
It was weird – for London Aunt as well as me, as I don't think she was expecting such an emotional reaction.
I think it's because there were lots of things I enjoyed about hearing when I was little. I loved my violin, listening to story tapes, watching nature documentaries with the husky narrative of David Attenborough. Having some decent hearing enriched my life.
And it's the things that enrich your life and then go, you miss the most, isn't it? Sure, it gets easier as time passes, and there are days where I don't even think about it. But it's always there, rumbling in the background.
However, I think that whatever you lose in your life that you love, whether human or not, you seek a surrogate when it goes. So I lost my violin, story tapes and nature documentaries, but instead I got the double bass and new non-musical hobbies, writing my own stories, and an interest in bizarre foreign movies.
And after all, I doubt at 28 I would still be listening to The Secret Seven, nor would I probably have time for the violin.
So it all makes sense, it's all balanced out.
But I do I still miss it…
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