Deafinitely Girly's amazing weekend

Wow, what a wonderful weekend I had.

Busy – check

Hungover – check

Fun-filled – check

Friend-filled – check

Food-filled – check

So all the perfect ingredients were there, and just for good measure I threw in a trip to Ikea with the French Man.

I know, I know, Ikea and a raging Saturday hangover might now seem like the brightest idea, but actually it all worked out well, as there’s a surprisingly large number of places to sit and lie down while walking around Ikea and I think I utilised them all.

The trip to Ikea was actually for plants. Ever since Swiss Man from Japan recounted his plant buying expedition, I have been feeling my own need to go plant buying there and so, armed with the French Man for advice and carrying skills, I set off.

And I bought a giant plant masquerading as a Yucca that isn’t a Yucca – and I love it. It’s actually called Ralph and is residing in my sitting room trying his hardest to get in the way of the TV.

Buying a real live plant is a big commitment to me. Before this, I’ve had chilli plants, peace lilies, a lavender, and even a goldfish called Charlie but invariably, I give them all up to people better able to care for them.

I am commitment phobic of caring for living things. Even the mice in my flat move on eventually.

So Ralph, the non-Yucca, is a big deal for me.

Also this weekend I saw some of the best people in London – NikNak and Country Boy 1, Friend Who Knows Big Words, The Singing Swede and GB Man. To say my meetings with them were restorative would be a massive understatement. It was their chats over cups of tea, curry and Jaffa Cakes that kept me moving forward on a weekend where I would have otherwise spent the whole time sleeping.

And now, there’s more exciting news. The Girl That Can’t Help But Knit has popped in for a visit – bringing of course her knitting with her. It’s fab to catch up and hear about the amazing adventure she’s about to embark on. Travelling around the world with 18 men CANNOT be a bad thing, surely?

So all that’s left for me to do is wish you a happy Monday. I hope this week will be a 5-day blog week – there’s deafinitely lots of fun things in store…

DG

x

Frustrated with subtitles

Ever had one of those sleeps where you feel like you blinked and suddenly it was time to get up?

That's how I feel this morning. When my alarm went off at 6.30am I answered my clock like a phone, convinced someone was calling me in the middle of the night, which was made even more bizarre by the fact that I don't really use the phone.

Then on waking a bit more, I didn't check my emails or Twitter as I usually do, as I convinced I had just done that. I had indeed, but 6 hours ago.

I didn't eat breakfast either as my body is still convinced it's only just had dinner. What is going on?

Where did my sleep go? And more worryingly, how am I going to get through today?

Anyway, what I really want to talk about subtitles – something I haven't had a proper moan about in a long time. And the reason why I haven’t been moaning? Well, I think I've just become accepting of the substandard quality of them. I've learnt to not get frustrated by them during the news, or sports, or comment programs. Mainly because I've stopped watching them. Aside from BBC Breakfast, I no longer rely on TV to keep me up to date on current affairs, I rely on the Internet.

But last night, after a body conditioning class with the Singing Swede, and while eating dinner at hers, it was her turn to remark on the subtitle quality. And this was on a prerecorded programme on Channel 4.

In fact, the subtitles were so far behind, we had to give up watching Gok and his clothing roadshow, as I had no clue what was going on.

'In Sweden this just wouldn't happen,' she told me. 'The subtitles are seamless and matched to the dialogue, even on live programmes.'

Imagine that? Decent subtitles! I wonder if Sweden and other countries that show programmes in foreign languages have to provide good subtitles because otherwise the whole TV-watching nation would be up in arms? I mean, this is not just a service for deaf people over there, it's a service for everyone.

But this means, that the technology is there for better subtitles surely? And if it, then why aren't we getting it? Why is it acceptable to fob the UK’s deaf population off with spelling errors, text that's so behind it doesn't make sense, and huge gaps where it has to play catch up?

I spend my whole non-TV watching life playing ‘Guess What's Going On’ and trying to make sure I’m following things, surely my TV watching shouldn't be the same, especially when in this instance the subtitles should simply be following a script?

Unless things improve, I think that deaf people should be able to pay a reduced licence fee – we simply do not get the same service as hearing people, so why should we have to pay for it?

Anyone fancy joining me in my campaign?

Deaf girl goes tap dancing

I have just bought some tap shoes.

Hmmm yes, if you’d told me one month ago that I’d type those words on a sunny Monday lunchtime in October, I would not have believed you. But here I am, declaring that I have bought some tap shoes. Black. Lace up. With tappity things on the heels and toes.

It all started when the Cricket Boffin suggested I join her for a beginners tap class. Before I went very deaf, I did ballet for many, many years, prancing about with no real clue what my teacher was saying. And then, as I went deafer, I decided to pack it in. It was just too hear to work out what was going on.

Since then, apart from an insane moment where I auditioned for the National Youth Music Theatre, and a bizarre moment where I took my gold and silver exams in line dancing, I’ve shied away from dance – Zumba-ing only at my local gym, where let’s face it, no real dancers hang out.

But as I discovered last week, tap dancing is different. The rhythm is in my feet, the sound is in my feet, the vibrations are in my feet – everything is in my feet… except perhaps talent.

It’s the first dance I’ve done in a long time, where I actually enjoyed it – perhaps because it makes a noise in a frequency I can here and also because it requires elegance in a format that suits me.

Even better, my teacher is easy to hear, and because she teaches little ones most of the time, she doesn’t use any hard-to-lipread words.

It’s so satisfying when I find something else I can do with ease, in spite of my deafness. There are so many things I find so difficult that the enjoyment is sapped from them until it’s just a struggle. Take the time I tried yoga – by the end of the class, I was so tense that if I’d thrown myself out the 2^nd floor window, I would have probably bounced straight into orbit.

And will I be any good at tap? Probably not. At last week’s class – done in socks – I kept catching sight of a blonde girl floundering around while counting to 7 in the mirror, and then realising it was me. When we had to shuffle, tap backwards, I almost took out the lady behind me. And if I look at my feet, I miss what the teacher is saying and end up appearing as though I have a freestyle approach to learning.

But I do not care.

It’s fun.

And when I practice on a wooden chopping board in my flat, my neighbour is going to be over the moon, which in itself is enough to make me smile for an entire week.

Watching David Armand

Last week I went to a comedy show.

A comedy show!

Amazing huh?

Well, you know for me it was as it was my first ever comedy night as understandably I struggle to hear comedians. There’s always a microphone obscuring their mouths, the jokes that get said quickly for added entertainment, or the pacing of the stage.

But this night was different, because David Armand was performing

For those who don't know who he is, stop reading and You Tube him immediately.

In his alter ego, Johann Lippwitz, he performs expressive dance to well-known pop songs – visually illustrating the songs with hilarious signs and facial expressions. It's amazing for me because it's a comedy I can follow.

He was not however performing alone, so I emailed the organisers at Comedy Gold and asked if it would be possible to reserve seats at the front so I could lipread the rest. And out of the three speaking acts I saw, I lipread two, which isn't bad. Especially as one of them was Irish!

David Armand's performance was amazing. He did a Paul Young song that I didn't know the words to, so I struggled a bit with that one, but then he did Queen's Don't Stop Me Now and Hit Me Baby one more time by Britney Spears both of which were amazing.

I left the night on a complete high, and it made me realise that if you don’t ask, you don’t get. I never expected the Comedy Gold people to be so fantastically wonderfully accomodating but I asked just in case, and they were.

Now I’ve got one comedy night under my belt, I can’t wait for the next one… and if it’s a David Armand one, I’d heartily recommend that you go, too.

My tough deaf week

Today is Thankful Friday. It’s the Friday of what has been quite an emotionally challenging week. And I’ve got by with a little help from my friends – namely Penfold, London Aunt and of course the wonderful NDCS audiologist, Vicki.

And that is what I am thankful for – that when I need help, it is there.

Miss K often says I don’t ask for help enough… and she’s right. I’m not good at asking for help, and truth be told, I don’t think I need it that often, but support, now that’s a different matter.

Penfold’s response to the emotional email she got about me and my hearing was to simply say, ‘I can come up on Friday night.’

Amazing huh?

I was so bowled over by this, I almost tried to talk her out of it. And then I thought how much I’d like to see her, chat to her about stuff and just catch up, that I said yes. And it felt good.

Pushing away help is easy. The word no is a whole letter shorter than the word yes. ‘No’ leaves very little room for negotiation – very little room for things to grow.

So from now on, I’m going to say yes more. I’m also going to say ‘Help!’ when I really need it.

Without Vicki this week, and Penfold, and London Aunt who found laughter behind my tears of frustration last night, I’d be entering the weekend sad. Despondent at the lack of solutions for how I feel about me, where I’m going, who I am and whether cochlear implants could have any impact on that at all.

Instead, I feel empowered by the knowledge Vicki gave me, excited about seeing Penfold and very, very grateful to have London Aunt in my life.

And finally there’s my Rents – lovely Pa who met me for a restorative lunch on Wednesday and my fab Ma.

Ma went on a course yesterday, and while there, they were given a piece of writing by Emily Perl Kingsley called Welcome to Holland.

She emailed it to me this morning and I jokingly replied ‘Luckily you like Holland so ending up with me wasn't the end of the world!’

To which she replied, ‘Holland is the best destination in the world.'

And she’s right. Going deaf has meant I’ve landed in a place that perhaps I didn’t envisage being in. But it’s here, it’s mine, and I do love it.

And that is what I’m thankful for.