Dairy Milk for breakfast

Today as you know is Thankful Friday! And I think I am most extremely thankful for the weather! It's gorgeous! Proper warm it is! I only hope it lasts for the weekend as I'm off to Brighton to see Guru Tambo!

Guru Tambo is my old boss from my first ever London job and since I worked with her, she's upped sticks with her hubby, moved to Brighton, got a dog and had a lovely baby boy. I haven't seen her since she did all this so I’m very much looking forward to catching up on the beach! Hurrah!

I am going to take my new and lovely hat to wear so I don't fall over in the sun.

Anyway, I had the most interesting conversation with my friend Tigger the other day. He's the one who came to stay and did a cartwheel in the Tate Modern.

I asked him if I could have dairy milk for breakfast.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘It's not bad for you and contains calcium.’
I thought for a moment wondering if he was being sarcastic, but he really wasn't. He honestly was encouraging me to have dairy milk for breakfast.
‘What about the sugar content?’ I asked.

‘Sugar?’ he said, ‘what are you on about?’ And then he sent me a breakdown of the vitamin and mineral and everything content of dairy milk.

‘If you're really worried,’ he said, ‘you could have rice or soya milk.’

Tick, tick, tick, tick

And then I twigged…

He thought I meant the white stuff that comes from cows – dairy milk, whereas I meant the brown stuff that comes from Cadbury's – Dairy Milk.

Tigger was horrified at this – he runs marathons and does terribly healthy things like not eating Dairy Milk for breakfast.

But I checked and a bar of Dairy Milk contains the equivalent of three quarters of a pint of fresh liquid milk in every half pound of milk chocolate, which means technically I'm getting calcium, vitamin B12, and vitamin D, along with a host of other things that are found in milk if I eat enough of it that is.

So maybe I can have it for breakfast after all!

And that's just one more thing to be thankful for today…

Marmite dreams

Last night I ate half a block of the new Marmite cheese that's just come out. Snowboarding Boy will be glad he wasn't there to witness such an act – he’s quite a hater of the stuff. But it was truly delicious – a wonderfully gooey mixture of cheese and Marmite all in one mouthful. All it needed was a dollop of salad cream to make it a gourmet feast! Yum!

And then I closed my eyes and boy, did I have some weird dreams – Pete Burns was in them. But not like that! Ew!

Google tells me that cheese giving you nightmares is something of a myth, however a study in 2005 found that different types of cheese can give you different types of dreams! Apparently, Cheddar, which is what I had, makes you dream of celebrities… and I guess Pete Burns is kind of a celebrity.

I wonder if the added Marmite aspect made the trip any worse. Or it could have just been that Pete Burns just happened to be in a taxi next to my car as I was on my way to climbing last night and his face became indelibly ingrained on my memory. Google him and you'll understand!

Anyway, so where are we... well it's Thursday and it's nearly June! My, my, doesn't time fly eh?
Except on this morning's bus journey. My bus is being held at every stop briefly in order to help regulate the service!

*Argh!

I'm going to be late.

But it has given me the time to people-watch out the window, and once again, there goes Reading Girl.

I see her most mornings walking along the road, laden down with bags and reading. She navigates other pedestrians, dogs on leads, main and terrifyingly busy roads, and uneven pavements all while not looking up from her latest novel. It's quite incredible!

Of course, I do wonder if she's ever had a mishap doing this or if she is quite simply capable of walking without looking where she's going.

All I know is, I am not. One of the pitfalls of lipreading is that it does rather prevent you from looking in the direction that you're walking in if your talking to someone, which is why, yesterday, while going to get some lunch with Gym Buddy, I walked smack bang into a bollard.

*blush

Thankfully, I work in a busy part of London with lots of crazy people wandering around, so the site of a blonde girl maiming herself on a bollard wasn't too out of the ordinary, but for me, it was mortifying and hilarious all in one go. To be honest, I'm not sure whether it was injury or laughter that prevented me from standing upright afterwards.

So what I want to know is, it is possible to perfect the art of looking where you're going, without actually looking where you're going? Reading Girl seems to have managed it. Has anyone else?

What's in a name?

I am getting blonder every day I swear! Take yesterday, there I was sat on the bus home, getting a bit bored so I thought I'd drop Onion Soup Mate a line as I haven't been in touch for a while!

So I wrote her a nice text starting, ‘Hello Cupcake’ and sent it to completely the wrong person in my phone book. So then I sent an apologetic message to the person I'd called cupcake and then sent them the hello cupcake message all over again!

*cringe!

I always seem to be giving people nicknames, from the aforementioned cupcake, to chica, bird, mate, lovely, dear, sugarplum, Mister Man…

The list is endless.

In fact, I do it to everyone in this very blog, where Snowboarding Boy and Gingerbread Man rub shoulders with Fab Friend and Friend Who Knows Big Words.

I think one of the reasons for this is that I don't use people's names much when I speak to them. It stems from often not having heard it in the first place so therefore I have an acute fear of getting it wrong.

In fact, whenever I am introduced to someone, I swear I go twice as deaf when their name is said, as I never seem to hear it.

Then, I find myself afraid to use the name I thought I'd heard in case that wasn't it. But did you know, it's good social practice to use people's names when you speak to them... so I've been told anyway. I have friends who say my name 10 times in a conversation, who never greet someone without using their name and who actually seem to constantly spout names – I wish I could be like this sometimes.

But instead, I come out with all manner of bizarre nicknames to avoid the issue!

I like nicknames though. Growing up, I was called Sticklebrick and Motormouth, the latter being because I never stopped talking, the former because...

Actually, I have no idea, I'll have to ask Ma... Ma, why did you name me after a prickly plastic toy?

Stress-free travel

Wow, it really does feel like I've been on holiday, more so because of the pouring rain cascading down the windows of the bus right now.

I was in Devon this weekend with Miss K. She's a country lass you see, and her Ma and Pa still live there, in a town about 10 minutes from the sea.

We had a brilliant time and spent the whole of Saturday basking on the beach in the most amazing sunshine. It was unbelievably warm, and had it not been for the chilliness of the sea, it really wouldn’t have felt like England at all.

Then there was the veritable feast the her Ma and Pa cooked up, which included the most delicious BBQ and pavlova – I have no idea where I put it all… although I think my belt does as it seems to be on a looser notch today!

*blush

Anyway, enough about my double-figure figure.

Did you know that I feel less deaf when Miss K is around? She effortlessly becomes my ears – from car journeys to announcements on trains – she always tells me what’s going on, even when I don’t ask her to. It’s great!

Take yesterday for example: There we were in travelling back to London in First Class – Miss K’s Ma treated us to an upgrade – when all of a sudden she told me that the train was broken and certain carriages were going to be removed at the next station.

I had absolutely no idea there had been an announcement about this and had I been alone, I could still be sat in a broken carriage in Salisbury right now wondering what the heck was taking so long!

OK not reeeee-eally, but I would have had a moment of panic wondering what everyone was doing vacating the carriage, and had I been engrossed in a book, I might not have actually noticed them doing a runner.

It was only when I got back to London that I realised just how stress free she had made the journey by being my ears. It was a wonderful novelty.

Why being deaf is good

Woohoo! Today is Thankful Friday and I am most deafinitely thankful for the forthcoming weekend as it has a bank holiday Monday in it – meaning more time to do fun stuff!

This weekend I am off to Devon with Miss K – her rents live down there and the promise of chilling out, catching up and tasty BBQs had me booking my train tickets quicker than you could say, ‘Mine’s a burger please!’

Today, I am also thankful for the lovely comments I have got since my new column in the Hearing Times was published, including one from Demented Demon
who also writes for the paper.

It’s a very exciting thing to know that I have a monthly column in a real paper. At first I was a bit nervous in case Gemma – the lovely person at the Hearing Times thought it was rubbish. But phew – she didn’t! I haven’t seen it yet but can’t wait to have a look at it in print!

*blush

Anyway, about every six months, I get quite down about my deafness – it’s like my tolerance threshold starts to get low and I find myself getting frustrated about things that wouldn’t normally bother me – like missing out on chitchat at work, or mishearing something someone says.

When this happens though, I have string of ‘there-there dear sentences’ I say to myself to remind me that life's alreet really.

These include things like:

Your deafness makes you more headstrong and determined to get what you want in life

Or

It means you get free and discounted travel

And so on and so forth…

But just sometimes, I am reminded completely out of the blue of the good things related to my deafness.

And that's just what happened on my bus journey home last night.
There I was, surrounded by people nattering away on their mobiles or reading the paper but in the absence of the London Lite Text Column, I found myself looking out the window.

Now, one of the things I’ve discovered as a deaf person is that my eyes do the job of my ears quite a lot. They look for sounds, such as sirens, people’s lips moving, and things flashing or vibrating. And what this also means is when I look at things, I don’t just glance, I really drink them in. Commit things to memory, look in every corner of the horizon, up, down, left and right.

And it was while I was doing this that I clocked the most magnificent sight. Two huge swans in flight together high over the London rooftops. It was amazing to see these white long-necked creatures cutting across and sunny sky and I watched them until I could see them no more.

And do you know what, I felt incredibly privileged to see that sight in my own little muffled existence.

It's like someone took away clarity of sound and in return gave me a secret vision of the world around me.

That's is of course until I take of my glasses...

Then, well, I have to resort to smelling things!

No kids allowed

Is it me or are local councils, water companies, gas and electric companies and a whole host of other zealous work men constantly digging up roads that looked absolutely fine as they were?!

It certainly seems that way where I live right now. It doesn't seem to matter how early I leave for work this week, I still end up late, trapped in a traffic jam, on the bus, listlessly staring out the window surrounded by people coughing, sneezing, wheezing and doing their make-up.

Gah!

Oh dear, I feel bad for blaming it completely on the people mentioned above as I have just seen the cause of the jam. A man has parked his car on a bollard, and judging by the look of his puce face, I have a feeling it wasn't intentional.

The bonnet of his VW Passat has completely caved in and there's a mixture of oil and water spewing onto the road. Thankfully he seems OK, just a little irate and perhaps embarrassed as three packed buses and a host of Chelsea Tractors are gawping at him wondering how on earth he managed to not see the massive bollard in the first place.

What is it with my road and accidents at the moment?

Anyway, last night I had the most brilliant time being a kid again.

Snowboarding Boy and I went and investigated a late-night opening of the Science Museum and not really knowing what to expect I was pleasantly surprised.

I mean for a start, you could wander around sipping beer while looking at the all the exhibits and there were no annoying screaming kids running around the place.

But what we also discovered is that adults are even worse at sharing than children.

In the sciency experimenty section, you literally had to fight your way onto things, but once on them they were great fun. Snowboarding Boy and I almost made a record-breaking brick-balancing thing, cycled to generate electricity and laughed at the people who were on a spinning thing and making idiots of themselves.

I would highly recommend a visit to the next one, which is happening in June. In fact, I might just go myself!

I didn't hear it through the grapevine

I never imagined Deafinitely Girly as being a platform for book reviews but girls, if you read one feel-good book this summer, please make sure it's Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend by Jenny Colgan.

This was the book that caused me travel woe on Monday due to the fact it distracted me from noticing I was on completely the wrong train, and last night, it meant I didn't sleep until the wee small hours as I simply had to finish it!

It was utterly brilliant, utterly captivating and utterly heart-warming.

Read it!

Anyway, now I am stuck for something as good to read, but it does mean I can get back to blogging on my bus journey to work.

This morning I am stuck between a pile of boys at the back of the bus. I say pile because they all seem completely unable to sit upright and are instead slouching at varying degrees of um... slouchiness.

One of them is dropping croissant crumbs all over me while the others are having a conversation I wish I could overhear as the rise and fall, the speed of the syllables makes me think it would probably be quite entertaining!

Dammit!

If I had hearing, I think I would be the nosiest person in the world! I would listen to absolutely everything going on around me and be one of those famous authors who say things like, ‘Yah, the opening chapter of my book was inspired by a conversation between to women in the toilet of Boujis darling.’ Or ‘I owe this amazing storyline to the school boys on my bus whose morning chatter was an inspiration.’ And then I waltz off the stage holding my award.

*Deafinitely Girly daydreams for a while

But what I get instead is the most incredible level of unclear background noise and an awful lot of croissant crumbs.

Hmmmmm

I mean the only thing I overheard recently was a sweaty man yelling, 'Put it between your legs' to his friend at the climbing wall, and short of moving into porn writing, I'm not really sure what to do with that and all the things I mishear, don’t hear and make a complete idiot of myself over…

Oh wait, yes I do...

And you're reading it!

I heart my Freedom Pass

One of the great benefits of being deaf in London is the gift of free travel given to me by my local council in the form of a Freedom Pass. It’s quite simply the most wonderful perk in the world to tell you the truth.

It is tough getting around in London with a hearing loss sometimes – buses terminate for no reason and don’t think to put out a subtitled announcement so I’m left sitting on the top deck looking like a weirdo, and announcements come over the tannoy at tube stations causing people to tut and roll their eyes while looking at their watches, and I can only wonder what is going on.

But sometimes I do feel a little bit spoilt by having a Freedom Pass. Until yesterday…

Yesterday, I went to London Aunt’s for a catch up and dinner, and to deliver London Cousin 1’s replacement flip-flops – she left the first pair by the side of the road while doing handstands in Tobago… darlink!!

Anyway, on the way I thought I would stop off and do some shopping and so as a result, it was quicker to take the Tube.

*Yeurch

On arriving on the train platform, the screen announcing the train destinations wasn’t working and there was a man announcing them instead. When the train I needed pulled in, I double-checked the sign on the front, which said where it was going, and hopped on.

Then, I began reading Jenny Colgan’s new book, Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend – which I have nearly finished after just two days, it is that brilliant – and that’s where it all went wrong.

You see, I think somewhere along the journey, the train driver must have announced that the train was changing destination but I didn’t hear him. And the book was so captivating, I didn’t look up, until…

I had already travelled five stops in the wrong direction!!

*Argh!

Looking up and seeing a random tube station name instead of any of the ones I was expecting was quite a shock, such a shock in fact I nearly didn’t make it through the doors as they closed to depart. People were staring, probably wondering why I wasn’t taking any notice of the door closing alarm, which I can’t hear, and also probably wondering why I felt the need to make a mad dash for the doors when the train had been sitting at the platform for a few minutes already.

*blush

And so I retraced my steps and arrived at London Aunt’s, three tubes and two buses later, late, frazzled, and having not done one speck of shopping.

Freedom pass? Essential pass more like!

The way to a toddler's heart

My goodness, it’s Monday again!

Today, I am yawning as I had to get the 6.30am train back from The Rents’ house to London. There are people on that train who do that commute every single day…

I have absolutely no idea how they do it.

So, what a brilliant weekend I had, seeing quite a few of my favourite people.

Friday saw me chilling out with Snowboarding Boy – in an I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours evening…

…favourite movies, that is!

It was kind of a ‘I can’t believe you haven’t seen this!’ movie night and so it began with Top Gun – am I the only person in the world who hasn’t seen this? – and ended with Sex And The City… I really couldn’t blame him for not having seen this…

So yah, Top Gun was good, although I am pretty sure that had I watched it when it first came out I would have been swooning over Tom Cruise rather than cringing at his cheesy one liners and oiled up chest. And crikey – there’s a LOT of sweat in that movie!

On Saturday, we went shopping and I got a hat – I love this hat

*blush

and it will save me in hot weather from talking gibberish. You see, being blonde and a bit English rose-y, I am not awfully good at sitting in the sun without factor 50 on and a bit of shade.

I first discovered this when I was younger and on a tour of a dilapidated unfinished house near where I used to live in the Wild West um… Country. We had taken Gma there for the day and the first bit of the tour was the grounds and took place under the blazing midday summer sun.

Suddenly I began to feel awfully cold, then the world started to spin, and then, whoops, I fell over. And, if I am not careful in hot weather, this still happens on regular occasions. It’s like all sense evaporates from my head the minute it goes in the sun and the only way to stay upright is by drinking lots of water and eating salty food.

But, to cut a long story short – a hat fixes all of this. It holds the sense into my head and means I can stay upright for longer, which is always a good thing I find, as I love the sun.

Which is why it was a shame there was none to be seen when I arrived at The Rents’ – but then it was midnight. But still, even on Sunday it just rained, and rained, and rained and rained. Even when Head-Girl-And-Best-Mate and her son, Northern Boy turned up the rain did not subside. This didn’t bother Northern Boy however, perhaps because he’s only 2, and so he dragged me out into the garden to look at snails and next door’s dog over the fence.

Now, Northern Boy is at that lovely age where he’s full of questions about what’s going on in the world around him. ‘What yer doin? Where yer goin? What’s that fur?’…

And, when he first arrived, I have to say I had no clue what he was on about. But after our third lap of the garden, I was becoming accustomed to his little Northern voice and, when he stared impatiently at me when I failed to follow him into the flower bed and said, ‘Curm ern,’ I even understood him first time around.

It was very exciting, as I had always assumed my hearing left me unable to decipher toddler speak.

And he seemed to quite like me. But then…

I fell from grace.

I broke the free plastic camera that he’d got with his Bob The Builder comic. He didn’t even know how it worked, or that he had to look through the lens to see pictures of Bob, Wendy, Muck, Scoop, Spud (wow, I’m a fast learner) but he knew I had broken it. How do toddlers know things like this?

I felt very guilty but sorry wasn’t going to cut it… so I smothered him with kisses, tickled his feet and ran him a deep bath with lots of Thomas The Tank Engine bubbles.

This is apparently the way to a toddler’s heart when you have broken his latest toy!

*phew!

Overhearing delight

Hurrah, today is Thankful Friday! And I don't think words can express how thankful I am that we are finally here.

But I'm going to try and find them!

Firstly, I am thankful to the person who went shopping in Deafinitely Girly's shop at 5am this morning – I don't know who it was, but they bought a hoody and T-shirt, which is most deafinitely very exciting.

Boys, that reminds me, I made a T-shirt just for you, and Big Bro, there are some for the Family Clog in there, too!

Anyway, I am also thankful for Fab Friend, who I laughed with so much I cried on our climbing trip last night.

She flies to Thailand today, so we got in a last minute session to make sure she was on form for her beach-side cliff climbing...

Jealous? Moi?

*sniff

Anyway, there we were nattering away as I was tying into my harness. And then, I pulled on the last knot with a bit too much enthusiasm and my hands slipped, causing me to punch myself in the face.

As I was seeing stars, Fab Friend was having trouble staying upright such was the ferocity of her mirth... and I had to laugh, too.

And then, all of a sudden, through the whirr of the air con and general din at the wall, a voice cut through loud and clear booming,

‘Just put it between your legs’

‘I heard something,’ I thought to myself, and one look at Fab Friend's face told me that she’d heard it, too!

As severely deaf girlies, we rarely overhear anything and, the fact that it was a sentence as truly bizarre as that, set us off giggling like a pair of school girls high on fizzy strawberry lace!

The poor guy who yelled it must have felt a bit put out by the hysterical women beside him but then, that's what you get for yelling things like that in crowded situations.

Anyway, between this and the punching, we couldn't stop laughing. We laughed our way up the yellow route, up the blue route – except in the difficult parts where I mouthed swear words to Fab Friend instead – and in the car home.

I think that's the only thing I've overheard this year...

Hearing people, tell me, is overhearing always that amusing?

accident waiting to happen?

Today is Thursday...

Can you tell I am counting down the days of the week here?

Right now I am running late, sat on the top deck of a bus, looking at a motorcycle accident.

It's not pretty. There's a big motorbike and lots of glass on the floor and two police people who don't seem to know how to direct traffic! One of them looks familiar, I think I may have served him coffee during the great freeze !

The motorcyclist is sitting in the road and talking to the ambulance people, so I am guessing he is not on the verge of death!

*phew

But it's the second thing to happen like this in the last 24 hours.

Last night, I was sitting on the bus chuckling to myself while reading the London Lite text column where Londoners can text in what they're feeling, ask questions and just generally word vomit while other Londoners respond, when all of a sudden my bus braked violently.

The horn sounded, people shouted and there, through the windscreen, I spied a rather stunned tourist, just centimetres from the front of the massive big, red and frankly hard-to-miss vehicle.

To be fair, I think she looked the wrong way.

Anyway, London buses, as many of you know, are packed more tightly during rush hour than a tin of sardines and so, not everyone has something to hold on to at short notice. Therefore, not everyone remained standing up.

We were turfed off the bus to allow people to help a woman who'd ended up on the floor and couldn't get back up. I can't really tell you much more as I didn't want to gawp at her. But I'm hoping she's doing OK today...

But it got me thinking how one person's stupidity can leave them unscathed but affects a whole load of other people.

Ok, so the tourist may have nearly had a heart attack and peed her pants, but she was essentially unharmed and totally unaware that, as a direct result of her mistake, there was another woman flat out on the floor of my bus.

I wonder what caused the crash today. Was it was the biker himself or some idiot not paying attention? If it was the latter, that means that someone is going about their business right now completely oblivious to the mess they've caused – the injured biker, the damaged bike, the closed road, and the hoards of people at each bus stop for the next 2 miles all wondering why they've waited half an hour for a bus.

It's weird when you think about it. And thinking about it has made me realise how much more likely I am to cause a road accident than say, a hearing person. I mean, you've only got to think back to the fire engine incident or when I ran out in front of a car and got hit after hearing Ma say go instead of no.

I can pretty much guarantee that getting run over was way more traumatic for the guy that hit me and my Ma who peeled me off the tarmac than it was for me. I mean I had cartoon birds flying around my head for goodness sake.

So from now on, I am going to pay even more attention so I don't end up unwittingly trashing someone else's day.

And if we all do that, maybe it won't happen so much anymore...

Service interruption message

Deafinitely Girly is unavailable to blog today for reasons beyond her control.

Deafinitely Girly would like to stress that these reasons are not that she ate too many cupcakes and is on an enormous sugar high, nor that she wants to look at some shoes in her lunch hour that she has fallen in love with.

The lack of blog is simply due to unforeseen technical errors beyond her control and she urges you to check back tomorrow for news of how the erm... cupcakes went down in her office and whether her new shoes are erm... comfy.

Thank you for taking the time to read this automated service message from the Deafinitely Girly Computer Networking Service Ltd.

*sheepish blush

I just don't know how to hear myself

So, today is Tuesday…

Only three more days until the weekend! Hurrah!

This week, Friend Who Knows Big Words has got me working on my pronunciation and vocabulary.

With the former, I had an elocution lesson on the District Line with her, while discussing her recent French holiday to Marseille.

Hmmmmmm

See, after the Versailles incident, this word is scarier to me than a whole sentence full of schizophrenics and Cadogan Halls. So I asked her…

‘How was your weekend in Marseillezzzzzzzzzz?’

And she looked at me the same way as when I told her I was going to peruse the shops.

‘Mar-say,’ she corrected me, in a way that only my close friends and family can. It still makes me want to dig myself a shallow grave in which to lie down in, but if a stranger corrected me, I'd probably dig them a shallow grave to lie down in.

Anyway, after blushing a rather violent shade of red, I tried again...

‘Mar-say’

At which point, Friend Who Knows Big Words burst out laughing.

Apparently I sounded like Del Boy from Only Fools And Horses when I said it.

And so it went on, like a tennis volley:

‘Mar-say,’ said Friend Who Knows Big Words

‘Mar-say,’ I said, while she snorted with laughter and I struggled to tell the difference between what she was saying, what I said in the first place and what I was now struggling to say!

In the end we gave up and I went back to practising schizophrenic and Versailles with the people sitting opposite us giving us very strange looks.

But I really do have a lot to learn from Friend Who Knows Big Words. I mean, she knows a lot of big words, and I want to know more. So in addition to the elocution lessons, I've started doing the crossword in The Guardian and The Times. Right now, I am rubbish and think that I'd be better with a Take A Break ArrowWord book, but I am going to persevere...

8 across: (horse) mottled with two colours

7 letters

Answers on a postcard please!

Ich miss das Wochenende

When a weekend is as good as the one I just had, it’s inevitable that the Monday after it should seem more um… crap than usual?

Yah?

Well, if this is to believed, then the crapness of today is a true measure of how fabulous my weekend was. And, where to begin?

Well, there was the visit from First Ever Friend and Swiss Boy 2 – it was so lovely to see them both. We walked our socks off in Windsor Great Park, Hyde Park and all along the river and more than made up for any calories lost with delicious meals and snacks and ice creams and… good grief, was the entire weekend about food?

Then on Sunday, we all met up with Bebop and RockSteady – who live oop norf and were down visiting, and Friend Who Knows Big Words. It was utterly brilliant to see Bebop again. Do you know, in 6th form we used to regularly turn up in the same clothes? Well yesterday when we met up, we were wearing the same clothes – apart from the leggings (Bebop has exceedingly good legs unlike me) – right down to the bangles!

*spooky!

After a fab catch up we then put First Ever Friends and Swiss Boy 2 on the tube to Heathrow, and it broke, and they missed their flight…

*sniff

Not a good advert to two people who come from the most organised country in the world where a train to the airport would not even be 10 seconds late, let alone stop working altogether.

*cringe

But what was interesting was that all day on Sunday, First Ever Friend kept saying, ‘I wish I didn’t have to leave yet’

And her wish came true!

Amazing!

So I am going to get wishing that this day gets a whole lot better – it’s bound to really as I am meeting Miss K after work for a gossip – and I am going to wish that all my worries of today are gone by tomorrow.

What would you wish for?

Das Wochenende

Today is thankful Friday and I am thankful for my wonderful friends – all of them!

Friends come in all shapes and sizes I find, and this weekend the ones I am seeing are coming from Switzerland, so they are Swiss shaped – whatever that may be!

The Swiss-shaped person coming to visit me is First Ever Friend – called that because she really was my first ever friend. We met in kindergarten and stuck together when a nasty girl
tried to bully us. I found that nasty girl on Facebook recently and it would seem she fell out of the ugly tree later on in her life and thwacked a few branches on the way down.

*teehee

First Ever Friend is one of my few friends that knew me as a not-deaf-but-deaf-really person – along with her and SuperCathyFragileMystic they thought what I thought - that I wasn't um... deaf.

It's not that it really makes any difference – but sometimes I do wonder whether you can define my life in two sections – Before Knowing About Deafness (BkAD) and After Knowing About Deafness (AkAD).
BkAD, I was full of these unrealistic hopes and dreams: I was going to be a concert violist, have a flat in the Wild West um... Country, write best-selling children’s' books (I didn't know that plagiarism of Topsy & Tim was illegal at that age) and live
on a nutritious diet of Smash and apple crumble.

AkAD, I was full of these unrealistic um...

*Oh crap

Except now, I don't want to be a concert violinist or a plagarising children's author...

I'd like to be the star in the reasonably-priced car, write lots of original stuff and live on a nutritious diet of London restaurants...

*sits and ponders the effects this may have on her double-figures figure

I think the main difference between BkAD and AkAD is that BkAD, I led my life and dictated where, however unrealistic, I wanted to go with stubborn abandon. But for a long time AkAD, I think I let my deafness do the talking about what I could and couldn't wish for.

Recently however, I've noticed chinks of my BkAD armour showing through, and I'm finding it quite refreshing

Maybe I should have some Smash and apple crumble for lunch...

Sorry I'm late

Today’s post is late…

Last night I went to bed late…

This morning I woke up late…

But what this did teach me is that I can shower, dress and leave the house in just 10 minutes. Previously I thought that only Shakira Shakira was capable of such an amazing feat, but I did it!

*phew

It’s weird being late as I never normally am. In fact, I am normally early – for everything – all the time. Just ask Miss K about my airport obsession in Barcelona and you’ll see exactly what I mean.

A fear of being late is apparently – according to Google – called allegrophobia.

I have this.

I think in order to cure it, I am going to try being late more often… just like this morning.

I am not alone

Did you know that there are an estimated one million adults in the UK who are unable to hear an ordinary smoke alarm!?

Yikes!

And, according to the Salisbury Journal, Wilshire Fire & Rescue service is urging people to get the right smoke alarm fitted in their home.

Burning buildings are one of my worst fears – I live on the top floor of a block of flats and my neighbours are prone to mad, drunken parties…

Irrational or not, whether I would wake when my fire alarm went off is a real worry to me. At Christmas I was reassured that I can actually hear the block’s fire alarm a little bit, when the girl downstairs set fire to her kitchen.

All of a sudden I was aware of an alien sound in my head and I ran around the flat frantically looking for the source of my discomfort and hoping I wouldn’t find flames licking at the front door. I didn’t – but I did find more smoke than an 80’s disco.

But then, when I was in Barcelona with Miss K the other week, some over-amorous Italians began banging on our door one night, presumably to invite us for a nightcap. I slept through the first series of knocks until Miss K woke me up for some advice on what to do about them.

We sat in bed, listening to the knocks, looking around for something heavy to smack them on the head with, but eventually they gave up – leaving flowers outside our door.

But what worried me most was, I didn’t hear the initial banging…

When I was at university, living in halls, I made the caretakers promise they would come and rescue me if the building was burning down – but in my flat, I don’t have anyone to ask – except New Housemate and he’s not always there.

I don’t really understand all the jargon surrounding deaf equipment – it seems to me it’s a bit more complicated that sticking something to the ceiling and pressing a red button to check it every month.

What’s more, this flat isn’t mine – I can’t afford to install a system that won’t come out again. Can I get one that’s compatible with the one installed by my agency? And can you get deaf fire alarms that only cost £10 like you can for hearing people or must I save up?

I mean, I know there’s no price on life – but I object to having for fork out more for a fire alarm just because my ears are broken…

And other thing – if this vibrates too, how long will it take me, in the event of a fire to try answering my phone, turning off my alarm clock and going through all my other vibrating things before I realise that…

*crap

The building is on fire!!!!!

So, I’m off shopping – and I may pick the brains of Chris – one of my readers who’s been kind enough to offer me technology advice in the past…

Chris?

I heard Kew Gardens

Today feels like Monday on account of yesterday being a bank holiday! Yesterday was also something else very important...

It was Snowboarding Boy's birthday – but he doesn't like fuss so, shhhhh...

I had an utterly brilliant long weekend. Tigger came to visit and I made him walk the whole of London, and I really do not over exaggerate! We went around Hyde Park, walked through Green Park to Soho, down to Covent Garden, over the river, up to the Tate Modern, back again, along past the aquarium, over Westminster Bridge and back home.

Phew!

We then fell asleep on the sofa and it was too late to go anywhere for dinner and drinks, so we went for drinks and then had Marmite on toast!

At the Tate Modern, there was an utterly brilliant exhibit in the Turbine Hall called – I have no idea actually as so far searches on Google have proved futile.

Anyway, when you walk in, you see yourself on a screen but everything is slowed down. Step to the left and your body moves like a bendy tree in the wind.

Walk quickly and your head is there but your body follows like a streamer behind, kind of making everyone look like Willow The Wisp!

It was fascinating, and Tigger and I spent ages working out what different movements looked like. Cartwheels made people stare and Tigger disappear, walking around the other person made a perfect person spiral and crouching down made you appear from the top again, like you'd been beamed up – and down – by the Starship Enterprise!

I loved it!

Then, yesterday Mrs Tigger came to visit too and we went to Kew Gardens. It was fab, in spite of the drizzle, and Mrs T and Tigger himself made it quite a unique experience for me. They told me the whole way round what they could hear. There were peacocks, robins, ducks of all shapes and sizes and each one was beautifully imitated by the two of them. There was knowing that rain makes a sound when it hits foliage and that a water fountain does, too. It was amazing really and as well as enjoying the gardens visually, I felt I got a chance to hear them, too.

Thankfully, Tigger did this for me right up until we were walking through the car park to go home. Being me, I was walking along in a world of my own, when he gently steered me out of the path of a car I hadn't heard.

*blush

Thanks Tiggs!

I heart Top Gear

This morning on BBC Breakfast News the newsreaders asked the stoopidest question ever

Do shows like Top Gear glamorise speeding?

Um firstly, since when is this headline news? And secondly, who cares!?!?

Now, having been in a nasty car crash several years ago myself, I am all for people driving responsibly – but for heaven's sake, if they are that easily influenced by a TV programme, then their IQs are probably so low they shouldn't be allowed to drive in the first place!

TV shows glamorise things. It's what they do! Cookery programmes glamorise cooking, soap operas glamorise affairs, ultimatums and scandal, and Match Of The Day um... still proves that football is the most boring sport ever!

Now, Top Gear is one of my favourite programmes. When it's on, I will cancel all my plans, put my mobile in another room and rid myself of all other distractions so I can sit there and read along... when the subtitles actually work

I harbour a secret desire to be famous enough, as Deafinitely Girly, to be the Star In The Reasonably Priced Car! I really, really want to have a driving suit and matching helmet like The Stig's, but in pink of course, and to get the fastest time on the board.

And then they'll invite me to be their guest reporter on deaf driving and...

*ahem

*blush

Seems I've got a bit carried away by the glamour of Top Gear doesn't it?

But this doesn't mean I'm going to take my car out tomorrow and drive like a nutter. And I think most people are like me!

Sure, there are the crazy ones who shout at actors in the street believing the characters they play are real, and there are boy racers high on drugs who plough into defenceless girls in limited-edition minis, but I'm figuring these people would have been crazy anyway, and I am also guessing they’re too busy being crazy to watch Top Gear in the first place.

The argument against Top Gear has simply been formulated by Boring People who want to take it off air because, well they're as dumb as the people who ‘allegedly’ think Top Gear harbours a secrets message telling them to drive recklessly.

If we were to deglamorise TV it would be a disaster. It would be like French TV was in the 1980s, and still quite possibly is. It would suck all the fun out of it!

Boring People, is that what you want?

If it is, may I politely suggest that you simply stop watching ‘glamorous’ TV programmes then you won't be able to ruin it for the rest of us.

And do you know what else? This stoopid news story got me so riled up that I forgot my usual Thankful Friday post for the first time ever.

But it is Friday, and I am thankful...

…for lots of things really.

Last day of April showers?

Today, is the last day of April. This is good as it's pay day...

*phew

But while I was hopeful this morning as I saw glimmers of sun through the cloud from the view outside my kitchen window, it would appear that hope was to be short lived.

April is having the last laugh, and dumped quite a shower on me this morning.

Pah!

Now, as a result, I have a crown of irregular curls around my face that don't really go with the rest of my hair.

Vain? Moi?

So, swine flu fever fear is gripping the world it seems. While my thoughts are with those affected, the paranoia of people who will probably never be affected never ceases to amaze me.

This morning, I sneezed. Hand up, tissue at the ready, and the person next to me got up and moved.

Now, had I been coughing, sniffing and generally looking like I might cark it, I'd have understood, but frankly this was downright insulting.

Then, the person she sat next to began to cough, and so the game of bus musical chairs began.

I swear that by her third move, it was other people that were trying to get away from her as they all clearly thought she was unhinged.

So anyway, today is Thursday, it's nearly the weekend and I'm very excited because tonight, I have a wedding bake trial with NikNak and Country Boy 1. I'm baking their wedding cake don't you know, and we need to check that asking me wasn't an act of insanity on NikNak's part.

I love baking. It's very therapeutic seeing a cake rise from a big blob of goo, then transforming it with icing, sprinkles and a whole host of other bits and bobs.

When I first began baking, I was rubbish. I used to put the timer on and forget that I wouldn't hear it go off. Once, I baked flapjack and forgot about it for so long that the kitchen smelt for weeks and the ingredients were so fused to the pan that I had to throw it away.

When I get my dream kitchen, I will make sure this never happens... somehow.

Does anyone know if you can get vibrating oven timers?

Deaf sounds of summer

Today I am writing this from my Pinkberry, in the middle of a massive traffic jam.

It’s most annoying as I think it’s going to make me late for work.

Anyway, the gorgeous amazing sunshine that is streaming through the bus window has got me thinking...

Is summer nearly here?

I really hope so.

I love summer. I love all the sounds of summer.

For me, these are the drones of lawnmowers, the hum of the acrobatic planes near The Rents’ house, the whirr of aircon and the bass line from music drifting out of open windows.

Before I went as deaf as I am now, in fact when I was about 5 years old, I had very different sounds of summer. On holiday in Menorca one year, I remember drifting off to sleep to the sounds of crickets chirping, the low murmur of The Rents talking on the terrace, and the sound of David Fishel, the resident singer at the local bar singing about the worlds most dangerous man.

I didn’t know I was deaf then, no one did. Not even when my mum said ‘no’ and I thought she said ‘go’, and I ran out in front of a truck.

I wouldn’t really recommend doing this. There was blood. But on a plus side, everyone kept giving me presents!

But it never occurred to me that I might be deaf, nor to anyone else. They just thought I was being me, which at 5 was a big whirlwind of enthusiasm for doing everything at a 100mph.

So really, I guess I was just being me!

The hiccup cure

After the success of the Russian hiccup rhyme, Deafinitely Girly was inundated with requests for this amazing little cure. So she dropped her personal Russian expert Tsarina a line, and she has very kindly not only provided the phonetic Russian version but also the English translation, too.

So what I would suggest is eating a piece of bread really quickly to give yourself hiccups and then giving they rhyme a go, but read it carefully as I vill write this only once:

Ikota Ikota peredi na Fedota
Se Fedota na Yakova
Se Yakova na vsyakova

And here’s what you just said:

Hiccups Hiccups move onto Fedot
From Fedot to Yakov
From Yakov onto any other

Did it work? Write to me and let me know please!

My ears are dead

Holaaaaaaaaaa!

Well, Deafinitely Girly had a most fabulous weekend in Barcelona – in spite of the torrential rain and thunderstorm that blighted her breakfast yesterday.

It would be fair to say that Miss K and I hit Barcelona in style and deafinitely absorbed all the city had to offer: Cava, absinthe, tapas, Absinthe bars…

*ahem

I mean, Gaudi, Picasso, incredible architecture, culture and sea views.

Actually, I think we managed to effortlessly combine both and it’s still a magical mystery to me just how we managed to fit so much in.

It was my first time in the city and I found it’s hard not to walk around always looking upwards, spotting the beautiful Gaudi buildings that slot seamlessly into the modern streets. I love the idea of passing one of these on a daily basis.

Saturday night, Miss K and I ventured out to a club called La Fira, which was amazing. It was decorated with old fairground paraphernalia including dodgems – one of which I didn’t see on my way to ladies and fell headlong into!

Anyway, it was all good. Miss K got chatting to a rather dishy Frenchman and I danced the night way, quite happily not talking to people – the accents and the extremely bad and loud Spanish pop made it an almost impossible task.

Also, I once again found the language barrier meant it hard to explain to people that I couldn’t hear them. They saw me talking and laughing with Miss K and wondered how I can do that with her but not with them.

When I used to go to France a lot, I told people in French that my ears were dead – that usually did the trick, although I got a few shocked looks, too. And when I visited Big Bro in Clogland, he taught me to say that I was blonde as he felt it was a better explanation for my inability to follow conversation. And he may well be right…

*Teehee

Anyway, I have vowed start preparing now in my quest to make it easier to socialise in foreign countries for the next time I go away. So, I’m off to learn: ‘I’m hard of hearing and need to lipread you’ in every European language.

greetings from Barcelona

that is where I am...

the keyboard is terrible, the sun is shining so I am off.

hurrah hurrah
x

Happy Birthday to Deafinitely Girly

Hurrah, hurrah!

Today, Deafinitely Girly is 1 year old! This time one year ago, I finally plucked up the courage to get writing – to put fingers to keyboard and type about what I really feel about, um… well everything really.

Sometimes this has been seriously written and studious prose (ha!) while other times it’s been quick posts when I’ve been a little bit busy. But, nearly every week day, without fail, I have written.

So here I am, one year later…

…and what a year it’s been.

There have been births – Big Bro’s latest son, Micro Clog; weddings – Friend Who Knows Big Words and French Boy’s; and one death – Adrian Sudbury, a fellow journalist who I didn’t know but who’s courageous blog I followed daily until the dreaded day that the post didn’t come from him.

There have been tears, laughs and a good few tantrums, too – namely about the BBC, who have since redeemed themselves magnificently with the help of RedBee Media and the now wonderfully-subtitled iPlayer.

Anyway, no birthday should be without celebrations and so after weeks of beavering away, I am proud to announce the launch of Deafinitely Girly’s shop!

Ta da!!!!!!!!

Eh!?

Um, yes – well it started out by accident you see – I decided to make myself a hoody with Deafinitely Girly on it and the company I bought it through encouraged me to set up a shop…

So I did!

There’s something for everyone – and a rather fetching pink sun visor that’s probably for no one. Although Gingerbread Man does play golf – perhaps he’d model it on the course for me?

Anyway, I think it’s utterly brilliant, and so does Friend Who Knows Big Words – she’s already ordered her chav-tastic tracksuit bottoms you know…

Now, now, don’t all go crazy buying stuff – we are in a credit crunch you know – but have a look, and a laugh, and wonder where I’ll be this time next year.

Perhaps by then, I will have my own range of Deafinitely Girly pink deaf-friendly gadgets…

Move over Aston Villa hearing aids, Deafinitely Girly’s on her way to Global domination! Now if you haven’t already, take a peek, HERE or visit www.deafinitelygirly.spreadshirt.net!

A million words!?

Did you know that according to the Global Language Monitor there are nearing a million words in the English language?
When I first read this on BBC breakfast news subtitles this morning, my first reaction was, ‘Is that all?’ But it’s true – I went online and checked it and the word count stands at 999,205.

But still, a million seems like quite a small number to me. After all, a million pounds is totally imaginable. Look through the papers and a million is an everyday London currency.

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, words. Well, as you know at the Beeb, viewers are encouraged to email in on the news stories of the morning and when Bill and Kate started reading out favourite words emailed in, the subtitles has a total meltdown. I still have absolutely no idea what the jumble of letters on the screen was meant to read! Although I was given an ‘ono’ a ‘mat’ and ‘oei’ so I would hazard a guess that some bright spark viewer’s favourite word is onomatopoeia.

Does everyone have favourite words? I do. Mine are envelope, said like the hug not the mail out, and regurgitate. I’m sure I’ve said it before, but both those words are quite simply the nicest words to say. They roll around in your mouth like a giant gobstopper and verbally taste quite delicious.

I am also confident that I can pronounce them, which is partly why Versailles and Cadogan will never be on my favourite words list... as apparently I don’t say them right!

Having had a think this morning about all the words I already know, that’s when a million seems like a lot. For an English graduate, I first discovered my vocabulary was shockingly small when I compared my A-level essays to those of my peers. This did not please me. I think at the time my crazy hearing therapist told me this was because I didn’t hear as many words as them. Whether she was just trying to make me feel better or if this is true I don’t know, but from that day on, I began to really read words. Not just paying attention to the sentence or point they made as a group, but what they meant individually. And gradually my vocab grew.

*Phew

OK, I still get it wrong sometimes, I use peruse when there is nothing to read and profuse when it isn’t, but I’m confident that I’m a lot better than I used to be.

Do I know a million words? Um don’t thing so. But I’ll tell you a girl who does...

Friend Who Knows Big Words of course!

It's really, nearlly almost my birthday! :-D

Today, I am excitedly awaiting a parcel.

I love getting post – it reminds me of being a kid and waiting for your birthday to arrive and seeing cards turn up on the doormat in the days before.

Anyway, this parcel is a long-awaited birthday present for Deafinitely Girly – this blog turns 1 on Thursday you know – so I thought I’d do something to celebrate.

Sometimes I can hardly believe I’ve been nattering on for one whole year – finding things to talk about, rant about, cry about and laugh about. Looking back, the first post seems like yesterday, the events that have followed are still clear in my mind’s eye…

And, when I get old and grey and forget them all, I can become my biggest fan and read them all over again.

By then I might have pink bionic ears, have fulfilled my ambition to be a concert violinist and played a game of Chinese whispers without totally mucking it up…

What an exciting thought, eh!?

The Russian hiccup

How can it be Monday again already? Eh?

*sniff

However, this terrible fact is made better by the gorgeous weather and the fabulous weekend I had!

In the midst of sunny walks, BBQs and Monopoly, I also discovered something most interesting – if I speak Russian, it stops me hiccupping!

I know!!!!!

I discovered this at BBQ at Friend Who Knows Big Words' house. She's the one who married French Boy recently don’t you know.

Anyway, after nearly setting light to the fence and smoking out the entire neighbourhood, we finally sat down to a delicious supper of sausages, ribs and jerk chicken. My contribution to the event was a large couscous salad and this gave me hiccups.

Hic

Hic

Hic

Actually, it gave me hics...

After a while people started to notice, and there were numerous suggestions to drink water backwards, and various attempts to shock me – but with Friend Who Knows Big Words, very little could. Then, Tsarina, who was also at the BBQ decided to teach me the Russian cure.

Hmmm, I thought sceptically. I can't even lipread my own language well enough to get the pronunciation right sometimes, how am I gonna cope with something like Russian?

And it's fair to say that we had a few hiccups, both literally and pronunciation wise. But then, I got into the swing of it and performed this rhyme, which is about sending your hiccups away to various different places in Russia. And at the end?

Nothing!

Not a hiccup in sight!

But that's not the best thing. Nope, that was when Tsarina said my Russian pronunciation was excellent.

*blush

How extraordinary!

After discovering I speak Turkish sounding like their equivalent of an Essex wide boy, this left me beaming with pride.

Just don't ask me to remember how to do it again, please!

French Cousin 3

Today is Thankful Friday – and for that I am thankful.

Last night, while pondering on some rather dark news I received, I got an email from French Cousin 3 – it was lovely. In it, he raved that I looked like a young Meryl Streep – he’d recently watched a movie with her in from the 80s and thought it was me – and that everything in his life was perfect.

His enthusiasm was infectious – it made me smile.

So today, I am thankful for French Cousin 3

Can I fix it?

It is with achy fingers that Deafinitely Girly brings you today’s blog.

The reason for this is that I finally decided to get back into climbing and hit the wall with Fab Friend and Flo. It was great fun – although Fab Friend is still technically recovering from a recent foot operation. Flo has not been slacking like me, or having foot surgery like Fab Friend, and still climbs regularly, so she shinned up all manner of things very efficiently with me following, arms pumped, fingers burning and head asking me what the hell I was doing!

When we were about three climbs in and I was about to embark on my next route, the manager of the wall came up to us and said something. Fab Friend as you know is also deaf like me, and the two of us looked completely baffled as to exactly what it may have been.

Actually, even Flo looked a bit confused!

Two tries later and we finally established he wanted me to fix a loose climbing hold on the way up the wall and that he was Northern Irish. I asked him for the ratchet tool and he expressed surprise that I knew what it was called…

Um… doesn’t everyone?

And so, off I went, with the funny-looking tool thing (a ratchet!) attached to my harness ready to fix the wall.

It was great fun actually, I got to hang on the rope, bash the hold into place and fix it so it didn’t spin round anymore – it was a nice change from just going from A to B, which is what I normally do at the wall.

I like fixing stuff – not in a dungaree-wearing Wendy-from-Bob-the-Builder kind of way – but it’s quite satisfying to take something apart and put it back together again, working. Although it’s always worth remembering how to put it together again – as I discovered with my washing machine, two floods later…

As well as liking mending stuff though, I am also good at breaking stuff. This is my fifth computer keyboard you know – they don’t like it if you throw tea over them as I have discovered four times already.

Actually

*blush

Make that five…

Yesterday, in a fit of clumsiness, I catapulted my mug across my desk sending the contents spewing over my shiny white keyboard and Pinkberry.

*sniff

Alas, I don’t know how to fix either and somehow I don’t think knowing what a ratchet is, is going to help me on this one!

The lady on the bus says what!?

Deafinitely Girly's country mouse alter ego burst forth with gusto yesterday, and for the first time in a long time, London made me a tad bit claustrophobic.

It was the weirdest feeling, like I couldn't catch my breath. I didn't want to be on the bus, indoors, I just wanted to be on a big green hill, at the top, gulping in lungs full of air.

I think I've been feeling this way since my dream about the Wild West um... Country – since I saw the amazing view from the hill again, the one I used to see every day growing up. I miss that view right now.

I told this to Snowboarding Boy, and he was happy to walk with me as I gulped in the air, focussing on the green things and ignoring buildings taller than three storeys, and do you know what? It's worked.

I woke up this morning soothed by the bustling city around me, fascinated by the cross section of society right there walking along the pavement as my bus pottered past.

Speaking of which, I had the oddest bus ride to work this morning. There were the usual subtitles telling me which stops were coming up, but in addition to this, there was another quieter announcement in a lady's voice that was not subtitled.

It kept being said and I was most intrigued as to what it was. By the tenth or so time it occurred, the first word was clearer and I was pretty confident that it was WARNING.

‘Eh,’ I thought, no one seems very bothered by this.

In the end my inquisitiveness got the better of me and I asked the paper-reading, business-suited businessman next to me.

And do you know what the announcement was saying?

‘Warning, smoke detected!’

Ummmmmmm

Now, as a non-hearing person I am not sure how many warnings a day hearing people hear, and whether they just zone out from these announcements unless it's something they can honestly believe is going to happen.

But this was my first warning of this kind, aside from ‘Mind the gap’ on the tube.

Was I meant to sit there and ignore it too?

In the end I sniffed, and breathed in and out as deeply as possible to see if could detect any smoke. I couldn’t, so decided to join the hearing peeps on this one and sit tight.

But it did get me wondering why the bus company religiously subtitles every single stop that’s coming up, but doesn't warn deaf people that the bus could potentially be about to burst into flames...

Most odd I thought…

Easy listening

Ahhh, what a lovely Easter break I had.

French Cousin 2 came over from Paris and we visited The Rents, which involved lots of tea drinking, delicious food eating and movie watching – all with subtitles – HURRAH.

We had planned picnics and bike rides but the atrocious weather put a stop to those ideas...

*sniff

However, on our return to London yesterday we were greeted by some sunshine, so we walked our feet off in a vague attempt to repent our chocolate-eating sins and had a great rummage through fabulous charity shops in posh areas – some great bargains were found!

But spare a thought for French Cousin 2 today, because she had to leave my flat at 4.30am to get the Eurostar back this morning. It was with bleary eyes that I waved her off, her suitcase laden with crumpets, chocolate raisins and Golden Syrup, before I returned to bed.

I lay there, aware that it was stupid o’clock, but quite unable to get back to sleep. So I did something quite unlike me – I listened.

I didn’t assume I couldn’t hear things, instead I lay there and tried to hear things. Trouble is, because I don’t know what I can’t hear, I don’t know what I didn’t hear. But here’s what I did hear…

*phew!

Three motorbikes, one siren (this pleased me as I am not normally aware of these), a door slamming downstairs (blimmin’ neighbours), several cars zooming by, an engine running for a while nearby. It was rather soothing, this listening business, so soothing in fact that I was soon fast asleep again.

And when I woke, I discovered I had slept through my vibrating alarm, New Housemate clattering around the flat and leaving for work, the start of rush hour traffic chugging past my bedroom window, and several emails buzzing through on Pinkberry.

Disaster!

I was late

and tired

And as many hard of hearing people know, tiredness is not conducive to easy listening. So I’m preserving my energy and not doing any at all today.

Until later that is…

*blush

Good Friday

Today is Good Friday

The sun is shining, the birds are most probably singing - well the ones that haven't been eaten by The Rents' cats that is - and I am in the countryside for Easter.

French Cousin 2 and I completed our epic journey up here in the dead of night and she's currently still sleeping it off. But being a morning person, I was up bright and early, not wanting to waste a minute of the day...

Actually

*blush

that is a complete lie.

Here's how my morning really went:

There I was dreaming about being on a lush green hill overlooking the most amazing blue lake when all of a sudden everything started to shake...

I woke in that kind of panic mode you get, sitting bolt upright like a vampire rising from a coffin(thankfully I was sleeping alone) and realised that the shaking was still occuring from the depths of my duvet.

Frantically scrabbling around, I eventually located my alarm clock, reading 6am! Does it not know today is holiday!?!?!

Anyway, once the adrenalin levels get as high as they did this morning, it's very hard to get back to sleep, so I lay in bed for a few hours, willing my heart rate to return to normal and wondering at the incredible shake-awakeability of my alarm clock that I found in the bargain basement bin of a gift shop in the skanky end of town.

Tonight however, it will be turned off...

I want that lie in!

The visit of French Cousin 2

This week, I don't get to name the days of the week. Tomorrow won't be Thankful Friday, it'll be Good Friday, and today is Maundy Thursday and yesterday was Holy Wednesday.

Today, I am most excited because French Cousin 2 is coming over from Paris to stay. She's quite excited about the whole situation too, and sent me an email about keeping goats in the south of France.

Hmmm, yes...

I think she's another lucky family member who inherited the ‘eccentric’ gene.

Do you know, when she was about 11, she set up a cult called the Soldive Melon Cult? She converted a load of people at her school, had them worship her as an idol and had this catchy prayer chant with actions that to this day, I can still remember.

One Christmas she even baptised London Uncle – with melon juice.

*Should I be telling you this?

Anyway, while I should point out that French Cousin 2 is not still in the habit of running religious cults based on fruit, she has carried this refreshing originality with her throughout her life.

And this is good for me because whenever I visit her in Paris, she always finds the most utterly brilliant things to do.

Regular readers will know that last time I went [see Life On Mars post] she took me to an bar with fake grass and deck chairs where we watched a Russian silent movie full of propaganda and um... aliens – or a Martian princess called Aelita to be precise.

The live music accompanying it can only be compared to the sound of a million castrated dogs howling and by the time it finished, there was barely an open eye in the house – including mine.

So this weekend when French Cousin comes over, I need something wonderfully original to take her to.

Something that beats a Russian propaganda silent movie watched on deck chairs and fake grass.

Suggestions on a postcard please!

What's really real?

Yesterday, after a fab catch up with Clever Katie, I indulged in an episode of Colleen’s Real Women. This week saw her searching for girls who could be the new face of KitKat Senses and she found three who seemed lovely.

But then something rather sad happened. On presenting the girls with their portfolios, the quirkiest of the three announced that she hated her shots and didn’t realise she was that ugly.

It seemed a genuine shock reaction, not fuelled by a deep-set insecurity but a here-and-now realisation of ‘I look like that!?’

She pulled herself together on the surface but I wondered how it really affected her – to have this new vision in her head of what she looked like.

I don’t think she’s alone in this horror though. I mean, you’re the one person that can’t actually see yourself. Sure, you can see everything except your face and a bit more if you’re really bendy, and with a mirror, there’s a clear image of yourself staring back. But how do others see you? And does everyone see the same? And what the heck influences what people see?

When I was growing up, I always wanted to look like someone else. I thought that by putting on clothes that were like that person’s, I would achieve this, or by styling my hair in a certain way, I would magically transform my face.

Thankfully, over the years, I’ve come to like the me I see when I look in the mirror, and the me I see grinning back at me from photographs – which as Emma discovered often don’t look how you’d expect them to.

I thought I’d moved beyond all those insecurities. So just imagine my shock when it happened all over again...

Aurally or maybe orally!

You see, at the weekend Jenny M, Advertising Girly and I were driving along with Abba blaring out the car stereo. The sun was setting and creating the most incredible light, so I started to film Advertising Girly singing, looking out of the window.

Aside from the insane wobbling of the camera, it made quite a good film, but as we were playing it back, I heard the most hideous sound – my voice!

It sounded posh, nasally, and quite frankly wrong! Red faced, I deleted the video and asked Jenny M if I really sounded like that.

She laughed at me and informed me everyone hated the sound of their own voice, but to other people it sounded normal.

It’s so weird. It’s almost like we are prisoners inside our own heads. Our eyes and ears are there but neither gives us a clear perception of how we really look and sound.

So which one do you believe? The mirror, the photograph, or other people’s view? The voice you hear in your head, or the voice on the recording of a home-made Abba video?

But then, on second thoughts, does it really matter? I can’t change my voice or my face and someone out there is bound to think both are quite nice.

And this is what I want to say to the quirky girl on Real Women. To quote the biggest cliché of all time, Beauty really is in the eye of the beholder, and while she might think she looked ugly, I think she was pretty alone in that thought.

Designer hearing aids

OK, OK, so I know the blog posts are becoming later and later, but it’s not my fault I promise…

I’ve been a little distracted recently.

Anyway, as all of the above is strictly confidential, I had a quick look at today’s deaf news and discovered that you can now get hearing aids with Aston Villa football team’s logo emblazoned on the mould.

Now, rather bizarrely, the one and only time I ever followed football – for three brief weeks in Year 8 at school – I supported Aston Villa as it was where my pen landed on the list in the newspaper when I closed my eyes. I was a rubbish football supporter as I find watching it less interesting the putting pins under my toenails. However, had I ever succumbed to the addiction of football, would I have wanted to advertise this on my ears?

Um, no…

But then, let’s just translate this into to girly speak and ask myself the same question but replace an Aston Villa logo with something like the Chanel logo or maybe Marc Jacobs. Hey, I could get a pair to match my glasses.

Um…

Still no actually.

While I am sure young Aston Villa fans will love the idea of logo moulds, it’s just not my cup of tea.

I often laugh when I hear about people who don’t need glasses buying designer frames with clear lenses to look more intelligent or because they suit their face.

But just imagine – if hearing aids do succeed in becoming fashion accessories in their own right, with designer endorsements and celebrity followers, will you be able to buy dummy versions that don’t actually work just to follow the crowd?

I eagerly await my first celebrity sighting!

My Wild West um... weekend

I find that Mondays are always much more manageable if the weekend that preceded them was fantastic – and perhaps that’s why I am having such a good Monday!

As you know, I went to the Wild West um… Country to see Jenny M, Advertising Girly and Earth Mother-to-be. It was brilliant to see them all and we did the usual bits and bobs – shopping, tea-breaking and of course a slap-up meal in honour of Earth Mother-to-be’s soon-to-be new arrival.

Now, ahem, I am no expert on pregnant women or anything but Earth Mother-to-be could be a Government advert for how to look during pregnancy – and how to do all the right things, too. She’s a picture of blooming health and has been doing wonderful things like yoga classes – while coping with the stresses of moving house. It’s incredible – I guess you could say that pregnancy seems to be agreeing with her.

Anyway, we all said hello to the bump and it got me thinking about what I heard when I was in Ma’s womb. I mean, I know I wasn’t as deaf as I am now, but did I hear all the sounds you’re meant to hear like Ma’s heartbeat and Pa’s voice – or was the world a total shock when I arrived?

If it was the latter, it may go some way to explaining just why I screamed for the first three months of my life – I was probably desperate to get back to the nice quiet world of the womb.

And do you know, I can still be like that sometimes – minus the womb part – but I still crave quietness occasionally. I have this fantasy of having a house in the northernmost point of Scotland where I can go when I want that silence.

Super-Cathy-Fragile-Mystic and I went there once on holiday and as I ran up to the cliff edge and breathed in, I felt completely relaxed. Up there, I know I’d would be surrounded by the sounds of nature, which would seem loud to most hearing people – but they wouldn’t disturb me.

Even on the day we visited, the sea was crashing against the cliff and the wind was almost making it impossible to stand up – but my world was still wonderfully quiet. There were no police sirens to make me fall over, no noisy neighbours with their thumping bass music, none of the low noises that make my world seem louder than it should be.

Time to start saving for that holiday house I think…

A pigeon on a megaphone...

Today’s blog comes from Pinktop in a little café opposite my house. Pinktop hasn’t been working so well recently so I took her to Snowboarding Boy and he sorted her out and now she’s working a dream. Hurray!

*blush

Which reminds me, today is Thankful Friday and I am thankful that I have another day’s holiday. It’s timed quite well as I still feel rather poorly, with a very sore throat and a bunged up nose, so I can take it easy, eat lots of toast and drink Lemsip.

What an exciting life I lead, eh?

This weekend, I am off to the Wild West um… Country, to visit Jenny M. She’s a hotshot director don’t you know, with her own theatre company, so we’re going to spend some time designing her new logo. She doesn’t want it to be pink apparently. Deafinitely Girly thinks everything should be pink!

It will be nice to be back in the county I used to call home. It’s quite a beautiful place with rolling hills and tiny villages nestled away in the valleys. I think living there was one of the reasons I never noticed my deafness because everyone who visited our house used to remark at how quiet it was. And of course, I couldn’t help but agree!!

Thinking back to my days in the Wild West um… Country, it really was very quiet. I never heard the birds that used to hang out in the garden, although this could have been because our cats had eaten them all. Although, come to think of it – there was one time I heard a bird, and I nearly fell over with shock. There I was in the lounge, watching Neighbours after school one day when all of a sudden I heard this ‘Coo-coooooo-coo’ clear as a bell.

Eh? I thought to myself… what the hell was that?

And so it continued, ‘Cooo-cooooooo-coo, cooo-cooooo-coooo.’ Eventually, after much wandering around, I tracked the noise to the fireplace and further investigation outside revealed the fattest wood pigeon in the West sat atop our chimney. Outside, I couldn’t hear him, but inside, the chimney acted as a megaphone making it sound like a pigeon the size of a house was sat on our house.

But I loved it! I loved the fact that I could finally hear a bird, albeit a pigeon. And for that reason, they will always be my favourite birds – even the mangy, skanky London ones.

April Fools' Day

Deafinitely Girly had a dream last night and Jeremy Clarkson was in it.

Anyone who had rude thoughts after that sentence, please wash your minds out!

I dreamt that I was the star in the reasonably-priced car on Top Gear and it was great. Being anonymous as I am, I was wearing a pink version of The Stig’s outfit and together we caused quite a stir.

Now, some dreams can be premonitions, while others can show your deepest desires and I think this dream falls into the latter category, rather sadly, as if it was a premonition I’d be jumping up and down with excitement. Then there’s the third category of downright weird – and I’ve had plenty of these, which will never be blogged.

Anyway, I do so want to be the star in the reasonably-priced car. Just imagine how much fun it would be. I’d be so happy, but only if my time is quick and Mr Clarkson is as nice and complimentary to me as he was to Will Young.

*Ahem

So, today is April Fools' Day and I am on red alert for anything out of the ordinary occurring. Except today, in London, everything out of the ordinary is occurring. President Obama is having breakfast with Gordon Brown – not ordinary. Half of the City of London is on lockdown – not ordinary. The sun is shining – not ordinary. I quite fancy a Cadbury’s creme egg and it’s not even 10am – OK that is ordinary…

But honestly, how am I meant to work out what is an April Fool and what is some G20-related issue?

Did you know that today is my last working day of the week? I have tomorrow and Friday off – I met Friend Who Knows Big Words for dinner last night and she was not impressed to hear this and is now even more convinced that I am incapable of working a full week.

Anyway the reason for my time off is that The Rents are visiting as it’s their wedding anniversary and we’re going to do some fun stuff – starting with the theatre tonight. Which reminds me – it’s not subtitled so I really should stop nattering on here and start learning the words.

Hope no one makes and April Fool out of you!

Zoom, zoom, zoom

Deafinitely Girly did something quite different yesterday and went on a motorbike.

Now, being a mini driver originally and now in another four-wheeled friend, I have never been overly enthusiastic with the idea of getting on the back of a bike, despite all best efforts to persuade me over the years. But what do you know…

I loved it!

It was quite the most unique experience that it’s almost hard to describe, I simultaneously found myself grinning and wanting to kick myself for leaving it so long.

And it’s got me thinking about other things that I assume I won’t like but haven’t tried – even deaf-related things. OK there are some things that I know won’t be fun – such as a Shakespeare play without subtitles or an hour long phone call with a mad jibber-jabbering person…

But I reckon there’s got to be a whole lot more fun stuff out there that I’ve got to give a go.

It even got me thinking about getting a bike of my own. Just imagine Deafinitely Girly zooming by on a pink Vespa. I got lost in the daydream for while until I was informed that apparently a Vespa isn’t a proper bike and I’m not sure I’m quite ready for something with an engine bigger than my car!

As a passenger though, on the bike with an engine bigger than my car’s, I loved that I didn’t feel isolated, because I didn’t have to hear. There was no straining to lip read that you get in the car, no trying to hear from the back seat and feeling left out – all I had to listen to was the growl of the engine – and a very nice growl it was, too.

I hope I get to do it again some time…

Spring forward...

Fall back!

I love that expression, and it’s the mantra that stopped me being early or late once a year for my Sunday job as a ski technician when I was at school.

I also love that when the clocks go forward and back we are offered a consolation each time. Sure, in March we lose an hour but what we get is lighter evenings, more time to sip gin and tonic by the river and warmer weather.

And in October, sure it gets darker, but that extra hour we get in bed deafinitely makes up for that. Maybe it's just me but for the week after I feel like I am having a permanent lie in!

Anyway, Deafinitely Girly is almost on the mend and not quite as Lemsip reliant as she was. I am, however, in danger of being the woman on the bus who goes cough, cough, cough and my head, to be gruesomely honest, is a quite phlegm-filled. And, as a result my hearing is totally, completely and utterly stuffed up.

Everything is muffled much more than usual! Take yesterday when I was in the car with Ex Housemate and Ex Housemate's Boyfriend – he had Radio 2 on and in order to hear anything, even though I was reassured the volume was quite loud, I had to hold my head against the speaker, which as it was by the side pocket of the door, was not conducive to travelling in comfort.

I travelled in silence instead, occasionally breaking into the BBC Radio 2 jingle as if listening to my own pretend radio.

I have to say I am looking forward to this hearing fog clearing. I miss hearing the bits I normally hear and am upset that they have joined the things I normally miss.

If my hearing is back by Friday, I guess I'll know what to be thankful for!

in sickness and in health

Today I am most definitely the former... So it is not a Thankful Friday. I think that the woman on the bus going cough, cough, cough may have given me her germs... Either that or it was Snowboarding Boy, who has been poorly himself recently.

I hate feeling ill, mostly because I am never usually ill. Last year, I got 100% attendance at work...

This year after today, I won't.

But what I have discovered is the wonders of Lemsip! This wonderful potion can have you feeling almost human again for a four-hour window, before it's time to have another! It's a magical remedy.

However, in my sickly brain fuzz, I've compeletly forgotten what today's post was meant to be about.

Guess you'll have to wait until Monday.

DG x

The woman on the bus goes cough, cough, cough

Sometimes, I am just not deaf enough

*Haha, ahem, sorry, just typed dead, which actually isn't that funny either…

Anyway, where was I, ah yes, not being deaf enough...

And here's why:

Last night I picked the last seat left on the bus and sat down. Everywhere I looked there were tired workers, eager to get home for a spot of TV and a glass of wine.

Then

Cough, cough, cough

The woman behind me clearly wasn't well.

Wheeze, cough, wheeze, choke, sneeze

Seriously, I kid you not, she sounded to me like she was at death’s door. My actually hair moved in breeze caused by it all, and at that point I started to feel glad I'd had my TB jab.

And so she continued and her coughing was really all I could hear – it was a low throaty cough and low frequencies are all I really have left.

Now, I know it wasn't her fault or anything, and to the other people on the bus there was probably a whole other host of squeaks, chatter, creaks and mobile phone tones to add to her choking to death, but to me, that's all there was and it was driving me insane.

But it got me thinking about all the noise I make that I don't hear. Does it drive other people insane? I remember one time at school being told off for clicking the top of my pen repetitively. Apparently it made quite a din and my teacher was close to breaking point.

I also didn't know sweet packets made a rustling sound... cue lots of dirty looks at the theatre. And, when I was much younger and in a music lesson at school, I once spent a full 10 minutes hitting a triangle as I liked the vibration that travelled through my fingers, completely unaware of the noise I was making. I thought my music teacher might actually explode with rage.

Now I am older and wiser, I am better at judging what might make noise but I still wonder, do the keys of my mobile phone make noise as I tap away?

My flute is the weirdest thing in this category of noise I make but cannot hear. Over half of it simply disappears into thin air and yet, other people can hear it clear as a bell. In a flute lesson not long ago, I was getting frustrated as my teacher told me I wasn't getting the high notes on a certain scale – they were coming out as a lower fuzzy harmonic apparently.

But being the most amazingly switched-on guy, he then gave me a tip – to visualise the sound, to see it in my head and then it would come – along with the right diaphragm tension of course. But it worked and I started to get the notes and really feel the music in my head more – it was inside my ears already so it didn’t matter that I couldn’t hear it.

And, do you know what? You can do it with anything. So as I write this, I am imagining in my head the tap tapping of the keyboard, the din of phones ringing in my office and the higher notes of the music playing on the radio. And when I have had enough and need some peace and quiet, I will imagine it all away!

Hello…

This morning I walked to work.

After a pizza with Clever Katie last night, a meal with Snowboarding Boy the night before combined with the closure of my gym, I thought I’d better do something.

It’s 4.7 miles apparently and a lovely walk through the richer parts of London. There were children skipping down the road wearing blazers and berets and all the other trappings that private schools demand. There were windows to peek in – basement kitchens filled the hubbub of morning routines, people making mad dashes for the bus and little dogs in Burberry dog coats being walked by their Burberry-clad owners!

But that wasn’t the weirdest thing…

Nope, that was the fact that people kept saying hello to me. Blokes mainly. It was most odd. I was wearing my gym gear, had my hair scraped back and was being rained on but yet these guys all said hello.

Originally, I thought I’d misheard the first one – he said morning and then turned to look back as I strode past in Rosemary Conley power-walking mode. The second time it happened I actually stopped to check my reflection in the window to see if there was something up – was my top tucked in wrong? Had I forgotten to rub in my concealer? Was my hair particularly eye catching?

But it was none of the above…

I kind of wished I had hearing so I could have heard the comments that went with the hellos and the mornings because as it was I just had to stride on pretending not to hear them – oh the irony.

It was a nice ego-boosting experience but it never happens when I make an effort to look nice. Perhaps I’ll stick to my gym kit from now on!

Writers Block

Help!

Deafinitely Girly has writer’s block! It’s come out of nowhere and hit my creative juices like a juggernaut on an ice rink and, in short, I am struggling.

Anyway, this got me wondering about the expression ‘writer’s block’ and where it came from.

And so, I whacked it into the every-trusty Google and this is what came up courtesy of Wikipedia:

‘Writer's block is a phenomenon involving temporary loss of ability to begin or continue writing, usually due to lack of inspiration or creativity.’

Hardly a groundbreaking definition but then I read on and discovered that writer's block can be closely related to depression and anxiety…

*DG sits for a moment thinking, but doesn’t feel either

Then, reading on some more, I found another interpretation of writer's block, mentioned in the book Silences, by Tillie Olsen. She apparently argues that historically many women and working-class writers have been unable to devote themselves to, or concentrate on, their writing because their social and economic circumstances prevent them from doing so.

*DG checks her FB friend list and internet banking and finds she’s quite satisfied with her social and economic circumstances

And here’s a third interpretation from author Justina Headley who says that for her, writer’s block comes from losing touch with the characters about whom she is writing; and that by discovering who they are again, the block disintegrates.

*DG wonders if it’s possible to lose touch with herself and pinches herself for good measure so see if her touch is lost

While I can see the merits of all these interpretations, I think today I will blame my writer’s block on the fact that I actually don’t have anything deaf-related to moan about, nor do I have a humorous tale of a child licking a bus window, or Araminta’s next bus/holiday installment to tell you about.

But what I do have is a secret or two.

I wonder if they can cause writer’s block…

The wheels on the bus…

Today's blog is being written from a train, a Virgin train to be precise, and it is running 20 minutes late. As a result, there were a lot of passengers on the platform when I arrived who were, like me, planning on getting the train after this one, but as this one is quicker and direct, decided to surge forward and squeeze into the 5 economy carriages at the back.

The front four carriages were 1st class and all of them were completely empty. This meant that we were all squished in like sardines while half the train was peopleless – MR BRANSON, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?

It’s clear that when a train ticket costs more than a monthly mortgage payment – which on The Rents’ line it does, people are not going to spend any more than they have to, so why doesn’t some sort of passenger research give Virgin Trains a clue that half the space on their train is wasted.

I think it’s insane,

Anyway, something usual happened this morning – I eavesdropped!

*DG pauses at the enormity of this…

It came as quite a surprise, not least because of what I heard. When I finally made it on the train, I somehow was lucky to see a seat near the door. In the aisle seat was a man and next to him, my seat. I asked politely if I could sit there and instead of getting up to let me in, he scowled and shuffled over. He then said to who I can only assume was his wife opposite him something about pikey people getting on at my station and changing the tone, or dare I say, lowering the tone of the train. Wow, what a nice man!

Anyway, my weekend was jet-settingly action packed. The Rents and I flew to Clogland on Saturday to visit Big Bro. Apparently that morning Mini Clog had announced to Big Bro, ‘Aunty is coming and she's bringing buttons!’

And being Cadbury's buttons I did. Take two as I had eaten the first lot in a fit of Lent rebelliousness!

*blush

He was very happy with his stash, which should last him a very long time as he only gets them as a special treat.

And what of Micro Clog? Well, he is quite fantastically cute and was extremely quiet and sleepy when we were there. I gave him a cuddle and he opened one eye at me as if to say, yup, you'll do for the time being, and then dozed off again.

He only stirred once or twice during the 50 renditions of The Wheels On The Bus that Mini Clog and I performed.

And now I’ve got it in my head I shall probably be humming it all day. Altogether now – The Wheels on the bus go round and round…

Clogland here I come…

Thankful Friday is upon us once again! Today I am most deafinitely thankful for the AMAZING weather… the sky is so blue that even Wise Friend should have no complaints – he’s a blue sky connoisseur you know… one cloud and it’s not nice weather!

I am also thankful for a chance meeting I had with a toddler on my bus home last night – she made me laugh so much I nearly fell off my seat – she actually did fall off hers.

So there I was, sat there, minding my own business when all of a sudden this little face popped up from the seat in front of me, bunches bobbing and the biggest grin you’ve ever seen! ‘Hello!’ she shouted at me and waved too, for good measure.

‘Hello,’ I said back. She then, for the rest of my 40-minute journey proceeded to talk to me, at me, lick the window, play peekaboo, and tell me she’d had chicken and coooouscoooous for lunch. She held court over the entire bus and told me she had only had one finger – she had 10 but don’t think she had quite got to grips with counting yet.

She also knew just how to embarrass her mum, shrieking at the top of her voice about her last toilet break and various other things that I couldn’t hear – thankfully judging by the blushes of my fellow passengers.

When she got off, several stops before me, saying goodbye to everybody individually and waving too, the bus got a little bit duller and a whole lot quieter!

It reminded me how happy I am that I am off to see The Clogs tomorrow – I will be able to meet Micro Clog for the first time and see how much Mini Clog has grown. I will wear a wafting outfit, smell of violets and make sure my cheeks are suitably covered with rouge, and then I will smother them with kisses.

I will never be a sensible aunt…

Spring in my step

Good morning! The sky is blue, the sun is shining! Three cheers for that I say. This morning on my way to work, I was struck by how alive everything is right now. At one bus stop I came face to face with the most beautiful blossom that I actually took a picture of it on my phone.

I love spring as a season. It's often warmer than the English summer and my favourite flower, the daffodil, is available in abundance.

It's also time for having a clear out – mentally, emotionally and materially – and lately, that's just what I've been doing.

I've taken a big bag of stuff to the charity shop and begun to think about what's really important in my life.

What's great about this is that it provides a new perspective on everything. I have more room in my wardrobe so can see what clothes I have and therefore am wearing things I haven't worn for ages. I've also discovered my recipe books, which were buried under my well-thumbed collection of Katie Fforde and Freya North books, which has given me a new enthusiasm for cooking. Last night Niknak and Country Boy 1 got a taster of exciting things to come! I’ve branched out into brownies – although they still want cupcakes for their wedding.

But even more significantly, I am seeing my deafness is a new light! I have a new enthusiasm for things I struggle with, and just lately I’m less fearful of things. On really dark days, when I’m tired of lipreading, or struggling with something, I often wake up and my deafness is right there, staring me in the face. This morning, I woke up, with my vibrating alarm clock, and greeted my deafness with a smile!

Colourful I love you

Last night I watched Colleen's Real Women, a TV show where Colleen Rooney searches for ordinary girls to go to castings for big brand names.

It's actually quite interesting as very occasionally the brands do veer away from the tall, leggy, and of course skinny, stereotype and plump for someone um, plumper.

Last night a Real Woman did get the job, but she was the skinniest of the lot and the most model like of the three. Now I could get on my soapbox about this but I won’t as I don’t really care about the size zero debate and also because what I really noticed last night while watching the programme was Colleen's accent and how bizarre her lip patterns are.

Now, I pride myself on being able to lipread accents. With the Irish, the lips are almost pulled back into a semi-permanent grin, which affects the vowels – I imagine them to be quite clipped and throaty. With the Scottish accent the lips go the other way, making the vowels rich yet hollow – visually they seem to bounce off the cheeks.

So what of Colleen's accent...

Well if I am honest, it was a bit like trying to lipread someone at the end of a dinner party, when everyone's relaxed and probably warmly drunk on red wine. Seriously, I kept thinking she was going to say, 'I blurry love yur!' at any moment.

I think it's because she's the first Liverpudlian I've spent a long time lipreading that it was so bizarre. The words almost seem to drag her mouth down and it looked like it was an effort to talk. At one point she said the word, ‘girls’ and it lipread to me as yeuch! Go on, try saying ‘girls’ in a Liverpool accent while looking in the mirror, and you’ll see what I mean!

Perhaps the most famous lipreading misunderstanding is ‘colourful’ and ‘I love you’ – but thankfully I have never lipread this one wrong yet. But I think, just to be safe, I’ll wear black on my next date. I mean picture this – Deafinitely Girly meets a guy for a drink wearing a bright pink T-shirt – not unusual for me. He says to me at some point during the date, ‘blah, blah, blah colourful.’

Deafinitely Girly does a runner…

*ponders for a while

Ahhh perhaps this is why I am so perpetually single!