Deaf Girly and Royal Opera House Access Card

Yesterday, FJM and I went for a walk along the river. The sun was shining, the birds could well have been singing. It was wonderful.

We sat outside a pub with a view of people rowing past at low tide. We felt smug that we had a table in the sun. It was all marvellous.

Then my phone rang twice. It was a number I didn't recognise so I didn't answer it. After all, I am never called by numbers I recognise as people know not to call me. FJM went to the bar.

A voicemail popped up and so I thought I'd have a go at trying to decipher it. Talking very slowly and loudly at the other end (he clearly knew he was having to call a deaf person) was a man whose name I didn't catch but what I did catch was 'The Royal Opera House, lost wallet and email'.

Eh? I thought, checking my bag and wondering how somewhere 8 miles away was calling me about a 'lost wallet' that I could clearly see was in my bag. And then I looked for my travel card wallet. The wallet with my Freedom Pass, my Disabled Rail Card, my climbing wall card and my Royal Opera House Access card and that was gone.

ARGH!

Unable to decipher anymore from the voicemail – and with FJM still at the bar – I checked my email and there from a lovely person at the Box Office of the Royal Opera House was an email. My card wallet had been found by the river by a man who had called them as their number was on the Access Card. Obviously they couldn't give him my details but they took his and included in the email was his mobile number and name.

Amazing huh?

And so when FJM returned from the bar, he rang the lovely guy who found my wallet.

Turned out some school girls picked it up and handed it to him and he went through every single card and phoned every single number on each one until someone would help him. The Climbing Wall didn't have my contact details, the Freedom Pass people told him to post it to them as did the Disabled Railcard people, but he figured I'd want it back sooner than that and then the Royal Opera House offered to help.

He texted his address to me and yesterday evening – armed with a bottle of thank you wine – we drove over to pick up the wallet. As I shook his hand and handed him the wine, I really just wanted to hug him. For giving me back my Freedom Pass and all my access cards. Things that make my every day life so much easier.

We chatted a bit and he said that the thing that made him really determined was the card he found tucked away in the middle. It was something Ma gave me as a kid – a laminated card with an an angel shaped coin in the middle of it – the sentiment being that someone is always watching over me. And he rightly pointed out that yesterday they clearly were.

And as today is Thankful Friday, it's quite easy to work out what I'm thankful for. For the guy who rang everyone to get my card wallet back, for the determined Royal Opera House box office guy who joined in the fun, for my Ma for giving me that guardian angel, and for FJM who is wonderful pair of ears, always.

Happy Friday peeps!

DG
x

Deaf Girly's open letter to Odeon

Dear Odeon Cinemas,

Picture the scene:

I’m on my first date with FJM to the cinema – we’ve known each other almost two years, so it’s quite an amazing feat. It’s Jurassic World, something he’s really looking forward to seeing. As I haven’t been to the cinema for five years, I excitedly order popcorn and nachos and throw myself into eating the quite-frankly disgusting cold plastic cheese the latter are served with, with gusto.

You see yesterday was the first evening showing of Jurassic World that FJM and I could go to. I’d been stalking the Your Local Cinema website to find a captioned showing ever since I found out that FJM went to see the original Jurassic Park three times in one week when it came out in 1993.

Such was my excitement that we got there 40 minutes early. Such was my excitement that I checked with staff that this captioned movie was definitely happening several times. Such was my excitement that I ate most of that plastic cheese – DEAR GOD WHAT IS IN THAT STUFF? – while FJM did his best with his stale popcorn. 

So imagine my horror when the opening scene began to roll and not a single caption popped up. ‘Okay, okay,’ I reasoned, maybe they are just normal subtitles rather than ones of the hard of hearing. Maybe once people start talking some captions will pop up. People started talking.

Nothing.

I was not alone in my speedy sprint down the stairs from my £13-something Premier Seat where we found a guy with a walkie talkie looking a bit panic stricken. 

The film continued rolling. FJM ate his stale popcorn.

To be fair, I couldn’t fault the Odeon staff at this point. They were trying. I could see the exertion on their faces of running up the stairs to the projection room to see what was going on. And when I asked that they start the movie again once sorting the subtitles, they agreed.

And so they did. And we all returned to our seats. I put the plastic cheese to one side and sat nervously. Odeon wasn’t about to ruin my first ever cinema date with FJM was it?

The opening scene rolled again. The egg started to hatch, and the crow’s foot hitting the snow didn’t quite have the same impact second time around. Anne Heche said something unintelligible to me and… there were no captions.

At this point, and I really don’t blame them, most of the people who had come for the captions left.

The movie was paused. I remained hopeful. I held FJM’s hand and tried to forget the tub of plastic cheese I’d just eaten.

Third time around, I held my breath as the first little claw came out of the delicate egg shell. I held my breath as the crow landed on the snow. I held my breath as Anne Heche yelled something unintelligible and then I realised that I too would have to walk out of this cinema and take the non-subtitle-needing FJM with me.

And while your staff politely issued me my refund. For the tickets. For the plastic cheese. For the slightly stale popcorn, I found myself tearfully apologising to FJM that he had to miss a film he really wanted to watch because of me. 

I found myself asking staff why they couldn’t get the captions to work. Why when it was someone’s job, was it not being done? Why, when it was advertised and I double checked on arriving, did I not get what I had paid for? No one could give me any answers.

So then I asked staff if this happened often, they said no. Although they also looked like they were struggling to recall what a caption actually was. One of the guys who walked out at the beginning, said it happened quite a lot. His face had an expression of weary acceptance. 

But I refuse to accept your incompetence, Odeon.

You ruined our date. And worse still, I had cold plastic cheese for dinner, when had I known you were going to screw up so spectacularly I would have passed on that and marched straight over to the Byron Burger opposite instead.

Do you know, last year there were reports that the UK box office suffered its biggest fall for 20 years? The cinema we went to, Kensington Odeon – not because its local but because it was the only one showing the movie with captions – was facing redevelopment and attracted a wealth of high-profile protestors about it.

But Odeon, I don’t have high hopes for your future, because the thing is, I don’t truly believe that you value all your customers. If you did, then yesterday wouldn’t have happened. Yesterday, someone would have checked the captions on the movie were working before the excited people turned up, ate plastic cheese and left again feeling angry and humiliated and in my case downright pissed off.

I understand that there will probably never be more than one subtitled movie a week and that this will usually be an afternoon showing because evening captions are likely to put valued hearing customers off – as Sara Cox once spectacularly demonstrated on Twitter. I understand that it probably all boils down to the subject of money.

But yesterday I spent £45 that you had to refund. You also gave me two free tickets to try and tempt me back next week after staff promised there would be a subtitled showing of Jurassic World again.

I will not be going.

I’d start a campaign if I’d thought it’d make a difference. Found a charity to help fund the showing of captioned movies. Or support an existing one. So that companies like yours don’t have to take the hit for making lives like ours accessible.

But I can’t really make that difference Odeon. You can. By not mucking up the one captioned movie you’re showing that month. By not serving plastic cheese and stale popcorn. And by remembering that you ruined my first date to the cinema with FJM.

Happy Tuesday Odeon.

Happy sodding Tuesday.

DG

Deaf Girly and Spotify subtitles

I'm one of those people who takes advantage of Spotify's free service. The one where you watch an advert for 30 seconds to get 30 minutes of ad-free music. It's not really a hardship. And it has running music.

So far however, my usage of Spotify has been limited to the gym on my phone. Music to run to. Music to stretch to. Zen music for lying on the mat in the stretching area with my eyes closed while pretending I'm actually doing something.

But today, bored of my iTunes selection – I've had the Tangled soundtrack on repeat since I sat down this morning – I decided to try Spotify on my laptop. 

And, since I don't listen to the radio and have no idea what the latest music is, I clicked on the top UK songs that are in the Charts right now. I've never heard many of them before. It's a new experience.

But imagine my surprise when browsing on the Spotify app on my Mac when I saw a little option in the bottom left corner that said 'LYRICS'.

My first thought was – it's a trick. It won't work. It'll get my hopes up and I'll click on it and get a message about lyrics not being available at this time. I mean, you learn to live with these constant disappointments. Like the fact that I have yet to find a subtitled evening showing of the new Jurassic Park movie to take FJM to. *sniff* Or the fact that there is still UNSUBTITLED content on the iPlayer – I really did want to watch that documentary on The Trellick Building and I CAN'T.

Anyway, with my expectations lower than a primary school sports day high jump, I clicked the lyrics button and OH MY GOODNESS...

It WORKS.

Gosh I am shouty today.

Not only are the lyrics there but they give you the lyrics as they are happening, which means I am less likely to be singing the lyrics out of time. This happens a lot. I'm singing away and realise I'm in a completely different place to the actual singer. Bet you're glad you don't live near me eh? *closes windows*

Ooh as I write this Bruno Mars has just come on... *taps foot*

'I'm too hot (hot damn)'

Who knew these were such inspired lyrics *raises eyebrows*

'Uptown funk you up' eh?

But seriously, this is amazing. Amazing. There are lyrics. And as far as I can see, this is better than SoundHound on my iPhone, which regularly tells me it's sorry it cannot find the lyrics to something.

This week, with my mended hearing aids, FaceTime and now lyrics on Spotify I've been feeling amazing impressed with technology and how it makes my life bloody amazing. That and the fact I've downloaded a new HIT exercise class from iTunes that has subtitles and has rendered me unable to move today.

It's all marvellous.

Completely marvellous.

Happy Tuesday peeps

xx

Deaf Girly's hearing aid-free week

I have just put my hearing aids in after a week of not wearing them.

Everything is so loud. I can hear the washing machine on its spin cycle, I'm aware that I haven't turned the extractor fan off above the hob, the gates next door have just clanged open and someone is hammering in the garden outside.

It wasn't a deliberate decision to leave my hearing aids out. More that I ran out of batteries and went away for a week. And I think also because during that week, I was with people who've known me most of my life. People like SuperCathyFragileMystic, Jenny M and The Rents. And FJM, who while I haven't known my whole life, is pretty darn good at making sure I know what's going on.

Out of the hustle and bustle of London, I felt a lot less deaf. I went everywhere by car so didn't need to struggle with finding out about public transport announcements. I didn't really go in many shops so there was no having to listen for the 'Would you like a bag' question or the various other things I have trouble hearing. And I ate out less so didn't need to hear in noisy restaurants. I noticed my deafness less.

When I got my hearing aids nearly three years ago, one of the things I was most worried about was that I wouldn't be able to switch between my old world and my new world without noticing the difference in a bad way. With previous hearing aids, I was almost left panicky on taking them out at night. Claustrophobic in the silence of my own head. The relief I feel at this not being the case with these hearing aids is off the scale.

They have changed my life beyond believe in ways I never thought possible. They continue to add a third dimension of sound that I didn't know existed. When using the t-loop hook headphones with my phone and FaceTime, they provide an added clarity of sound to assist lipreading and best of all, they continue to remain optional if I want to go back to my old sound.

My week off from my hearing aids was great. But now I'm back in London, the hearing aids are back in. Busy restaurants, busy streets, busy offices and busy public transport make my hearing aids a necessity and that's OK.

But if I ever do move to the country, I think I might go hearing aid free a lot more.

Happy Tuesday peeps

DG
x

Deaf Girly does a subtitled exercise class

Regular readers will know that I have a love/hate relationship with exercise classes at gyms and on DVD. I love the idea of them but find it quite hard to follow what's going on, especially in the Downward Dog position or while doing a press up on a power plate.

In classes I usually take reinforcements in the form of friends. From the Singing Swede in spinning who used to tell me which way to turn the resistance thingumajig to HannahBanana who got me through some baffling power plate classes, this method usually works, even if it means I am a few steps behind everyone else.

Then there was that time I went to a spinning class alone – DG and the spinning class – or the time I almost fell through the studio floor at a step aerobics class – DG and the step class.

Recently however,  I've been working from home a lot more and rather than heading off to the gym in my lunch hour,  I've been cracking out my vintage workout DVDs. And I'm talking vintage. Think Callan Pinckney's Callanetics or Rosemary Conley's cheesy pop-filled delights, the latter is quite good fun to dance around to while chucking on a neon pink Primark sweatband for good measure, while the former causes immense pain to your inner thighs and may see you flickflacking down an entire staircase after you lose the ability to bend your legs the next day (yes, this actually happened to me once).

However, after roping in SuperCathyFragileMystic into joining me for Rosemary's promise of a 7-day slim down, I realised just how much I was missing. SCFM proceeded to recount everything that Rosemary was saying and do you know what I didn't have a clue just how much that lady can talk. From the breathing and the posture to the success stories and the countdown on sit ups, I was missing it all.

And that got me thinking – with iTunes getting better at adding more movies with captions, I wondered whether they now offered workout videos, too.

And guess what? They do.

So DG went shopping, from the comfort of her sofa, while wearing her neon pink Primark workout gear – trust me, sports kit is one thing from Primark that I without fail always love – and bought the following:

As they downloaded I was nervous that I'd just spent more than £10 on something that actually wouldn't be subtitled. That there would be a glitch in iTunes and I'd be left trying to lipread instructors in my usual fashion while bobbing around attempting to be coordinated. But guess what? They really are subtitled. Properly subtitled!!

I tried the Step Up one first, pulling my hair into a high ponytail and adjusting my sweatband for good measure. But within five minutes, I discovered something – having subtitles doesn't make me any more coordinated. I am still just as rubbish as I was before. But at least now I know that I am being rubbish like normal hearing people.

It was a sad realisation that it's not my deafness that makes me a terrible dancer. I've got no excuses now. And so, after half an hour of feeling like a total lemon, I confined the Step Up workout to the dusty shelves of my iTunes library.

But Mari Winsor was a whole other story. I LOVE this workout. The subtitles are excellent because they give you all the information about posture and breathing that is important about pilates. 

They give you Mari's chitchat about stuff and let you know that the pain-inducing position you're in only has a bit longer left before you can breath a sigh of relief and have a cup of tea.

I would highly recommend it.

Do I have abs of steel yet? Well no, because this weekend I sat on the sofa, watched tennis and ate Tunnocks Caramel wafers but if Mari and her subtitled pilates classes have any say in the matter, I may well have soon.

And on that note, I think it's time for another Tunnocks Caramel Wafer. Mari, I will see you later.

DG

x

Deaf Girly Reviews Live Subtitled TV on an iMac

As I type this, I am watching BBC Breakfast news LIVE on my iMac in the living room.

*dances around the said living room

I know! I cannot believe it. And do you know how much it cost me to achieve this?

Just £13.75.

So it all started when FJM and I went to the Apple store to buy a new iMac for the flat. We don't have a TV and wanted a big screen for watching Netflix and catch up TV on and a computer, too. The guy in the Apple shop was an amazing super geek and when I started asking him about whether I could use the iMac as a TV, he told me about Elgato Eye TV, which costs in the region of £80.

Logging onto Amazon when we got home, I wasn't that keen on spending this much money when the reviews were not sparkling, so instead I hunted around on Amazon and found the August DVB-T208, which works on a whole load of computers, not just Macs.

Reading the reviews they talk about how it's a bit flimsy, but I was guessing this was for laptop use where the USB ports are around the side not at the back so I took a chance on this not being an issue on the iMac, which has USB ports at the back and clicked buy. The reviews also warned that you should not attempt to use the mini CD to install the software as it jams Mac disc drives and instead download it from the August website. I truly believe this is a crucial tip.

When it arrived just three days later, I was slightly nervous that I would be disappointed, but I downloaded the software from here and plugged the little USB stick, attached to the main TV aerial and opened the Fuugo TV for DVB-T application.

After a short search for channels, the whole thing was up and running and honestly, it's amazing. There's a programme guide, a record option and you can flick effortlessly between channels by scrolling along a pop-up bar at the bottom. The subtitles are exactly the same as they would be on a normal digital TV from what I can tell, which means you get the usual delay for live programmes, but it's a lot better than the alternative, which is live TV streamed over the internet with no subtitles.

Sadly it wasn't Bill Turnbull on the sofa this morning

It's been a while since I've wanted to shout about an amazing product for deaf people, but I honestly think this is one of them. This product allows you do ditch the TV – if you want to – and access TV on your computer like hearing people can. It allows me to get back to my routine of peanut butter on toast and the lovely Bill Turnbull on the BBC Breakfast sofa in the morning. And what could be better than that?


Just to let you know: I wasn't paid or asked to do this review – I did it out of the pure excitement of finding a fabulous product. *beams

Deaf Girly's thankful Friday

Today, as I sit here typing in my living room with the balcony door open and the vaguely blue sky outside and the sunshine trying to fill the room with light, I am very thankful.

Two months ago my Pa had a heart attack and today when I saw him on FaceTime for a morning coffee chat with him and Ma, he looks like a different person. He has colour in his face for the first time in a year or more, he's a new person.

Until my Pa had a heart attack, I didn't realise that life after one could be dramatically better than life before one. How dyno-rodding the heart of all the gunk meant that for the first time in ages he can walk without getting out of breath or feeling pain.

Amazing huh?

The day my Pa had his heart attack, I was flying to Rotterdam to see Fab Friend. He and Ma insisted I go. And so I did. Sitting in the departure lounge I suddenly wondered if I was doing the right thing, and so I FaceTimed Ma for reassurance. She was brilliant. Just seeing her face and lip-reading what she was saying was enough to get me on that plane and on my way to having a lovely time with Fab Friend.

I FaceTimed The Rents quite a bit over the weekend – using 3G, not always wifi and it was clear and easy to hear them both. And that's what I'm thankful about today. I'm thankful at how much modern technology has changed my life. I'm thankful that in an emergency, my Pa can FaceTime me from his hospital bed so that I can see everything he has to say rather than press the phone to my ear in a vague hope of understanding. I am thankful that I could What'sApp pictures of his notes over to FJM's sister – who's a heart expert don't you know and get instant feedback. I'm thankful that SuperCathyFragileMystic was also on the other end of FaceTime for hugs and virtual cuddles with her and my gorgeous goddaughter.

One of the things I really struggled with as a teenager going deaf was the isolation of it all. I couldn't do the long phone chats with friends and there was no other way of keeping in touch with them outside of school unless it was in person. I couldn't do the whispers in class, or at sleepovers in the dark, or on the minibus on the way to matches. I'd got used to being in my own world for a lot of the time.

These days, I am never isolated – not unless I want to be anyway. I can FaceTime, What'sApp, SnapChat, Facebook or Tweet people without needing a scrap of hearing. I can book restaurants online, book hotels, book flights, book theatre, buy things, return things, ask things, bother companies for better services for deaf people – all without a scrap of hearing.

And for that I am very thankful. Thankful for the company, the independence and how easy these things are now becoming. And I'm excited, because they can only get better right?

Happy Friday peeps

DG
x

Deaf Girly sings (hmmm)

Working from home makes me do odd things. 

Things like eating an entire packet of Rich Tea biscuits without even noticing and working my way through some horrendous Spotify suggestions because I refuse to pay for the Premium service as really, it’s basically falling on deaf ears.

However, today’s procrastination project quite possibly took the biscuit, the very last Rich Tea in fact.

Today I decided to try a Spotify instrumental of a song I know the words to and I recorded myself on PhotoBooth on my Mac singing it…

Why? Well, I can tell you one thing, it wasn’t to become a YouTube star called Deaf Girly Sings – although actually, if I wasn’t so anonymous, that might not be a bad plan – it was to see how bad my voice sounds when I sing.

So I sang along to Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran, which is one of my favourite songs at the moment while Spotify produced a perfectly acceptable instrumental version of the song to sing along to.

And can I sing? Well, I’m not really sure as I don’t know whether I hear what most hearing people hear. But all the windows in the flat and crystal glasses are still in one piece so perhaps it wasn’t completely horrific. And I didn’t see any neighbourhood cats running for cover either.

Seriously though, I would love to be able to sing. Sing in a way that people liked to listen to. Sing in a way that when you were singing along to music in your car you didn’t have people wishing they were in the car next door. And singing in a way that didn’t result in your boss writing you a post-it note (albeit a lovely cute one) requesting you not to harmonise to the Red Hot Chilli Pepper’s version of Under a Bridge or she was going to have to jump out of a window.

In fact, if a genie popped out of my Turkish tea pot that’s currently bubbling away on the stove right now and said you can choose between two things, a perfect singing voice or perfect hearing, I would honestly have to go away and think about it, because as we know from The X Factor auditions, perfect hearing doesn’t necessarily give you a perfect singing voice.

When I was six and more hearing I was pretty obsessed with music. I was desperate to play the violin and my Ma finally realised how serious I was when she found me with her guitar under my chin attempting to play it with a pencil for a bow.

But what I didn’t realise then was that making the notes wasn’t guess work. For most people they were audible.

At 18, while practising for my grade 8 flute – which I did get, albeit not with startlingly great marks – I realised, having lost a chunk of my hearing two years previously, that I needed to build on my audio memory as much as possible. And each night before I went to bed, I would play middle C on the piano in my bedroom and then the A above that and sing them, locking them away in my head so that pitch was always there. So that even if one day I wouldn’t hear them, they would be in my head. For my flute this was brilliant as I just mentally transposed everything I was playing down an octave and my grumpy mermaid in Reinecke’s Sonata Undine sounded more like a disgruntled baby hippo to me.

Anyway, as I get back to the proper task in hand for this afternoon – writing – and delete the file called ‘DG sings’ for all of eternity. I can safely say that today’s procrastination activity certainly ranks up there with weird things to do when alone in a flat. But if you know of anyone who can teach people with a hearing loss to sing – Gareth Malone, a new documentary perhaps? –  please drop me a line as it’s up there on my lifetime achievements wish list.

Happy Wednesday peeps

DG

x

Deaf Girly and the optician

This morning I had an opticians appointment to check my contact lenses.

Being a girl of very little hearing, I am always quite anxious about looking after my eyesight, particularly as I am already really shortsighted. Shortsighted to the point where if I didn’t have my contact lenses or glasses on, I would be unable to see anything beyond a few blurry shapes. 

So anyway, I’ve recently changed opticians and today was my first appointment at the new place. Once there, I explained I needed to lipread or have really clear hand gestures to show me where I needed to look. It’s amazing how similar ‘Look up, down, left, right, blink’ etc sound in a dark room even when I do have my contacts and hearing aids in – and the optician was great, waving his hand in each direction and speaking slowly and clearly. 

He then took out my contacts to do some eyeball-checking tests and started to talk, which of course didn’t work at all as I couldn’t even see where his head was anymore, let alone what his lips were saying. Cue much scrabbling around for my glasses.

Next, I went and did a nerve test. For this I had to wear a patch over one eye and watch a screen and click a button whenever a white dot appeared. I failed the test as the assistant doing it had forgotten that I needed my contact lenses in for this test to see and that I needed to be looking at him to hear. It was a total car crash – I was almost fast-tracked to a nerve specialist as the results basically said I was dead.

However, once we had established the test instructions and restored my vision, I realised it was basically a hearing test for my eyes and as I sat there clicking away at the now-visible white dot, it made me realise how amazing it is that I can be so horrifically shortsighted and have this made completely perfect with contact lenses or glasses.

Thinking back to my bleep tests at the audiology clinic, I know for a fact that a bleep test with my hearing aids in would not product a score of 100% or even close. 

Hearing aids don’t make everything perfect. They enhance and add another dimension to what I hear but they don’t give me the equivalent of 20/20 vision.

And that got me thinking about the day that perhaps hearing aids will do this. A day where I can put on my hearing aids and they give my ears what my glasses give my eyes. 

Wouldn’t that be amazing?

But in the meantime I remain incredibly happy that at least one of my senses can be restored to 100% and the other one? Well as I’ve said many times before, I’m more than fine with it for now.

Happy Monday peeps.

DG

xx

Deaf Girly and foreign languages

I am still grinning from the great weekend that I just had.

I went to Rotterdam (or anywhere) to watch the tennis with FJM, saw Big Bro and also caught up with Fab Friend.

Rotterdam is an amazing city with the most bonkers architecture including Cube Houses that you can actually go inside – a museum one anyway – which left FJM and I feeling more than a little seasick. Your eyes don't know which way is up as none of the angles makes sense.

On Saturday we set off to explore Rotterdam and the first thing we stumbled upon was Markthal – an amazing market hall full of food from all over the world. The building itself was pretty impressive, too.

There I discovered they sold Turkish simit – something I've had a 10-year long obsession with. It's the most amazing bread ever. I love it so much, I even once tried to make it but it went a bit wrong, exploded and started leaking out of the oven while cooking.

But that's a whole other story – and one that's probably in documented on this blog somewhere.

Anyway, one of the things that amazes me about Dutch people is how amazing they all are at speaking English. Everyone can speak English to you. But I feel guilty about this. It seems wrong that you are in another country and making people speak English to you.

So I did try to say thank you and stuff in my limited Dutch, but I have a feeling my pronunciation was so terrible they probably just thought I was saying something random in English.

I love languages and while I find them quite easy to learn on paper, I don't find them easy to speak or understand when spoken. Indeed, my knowledge of French is still quite good, but I cannot lipread it, which means it doesn't matter how much vocab I have, I will still never hear what a French person is saying to me, unless I learn to lipread in French.

It's not impossible. It will just take time. Time to learn how the the different words, vowels and patterns look while at the same time piecing together the different language to work out what is being said.

In my 20s I spent quite a lot of time going to Turkey with Sharkira Shakira. In Turkey, not everyone speaks English, so I thought I would learn Turkish, first with SS's help and then with a book that I worked my way through. And while I learnt the grammar and vocab, I promise you, I could not get to the end of a sentence without the person I was saying it to bursting out laughing.

'What are you laughing at?' I asked SS one day as she wiped away the tears of hysteria.

And apparently, I had learnt Turkish gangster style. My pronunciation of the language made me sound like, as SS put it, a Turkish wide boy. She suggested I added the word 'innit' at the end of my sentences to help. I was not amused.

I persevered with Turkish and on going on holiday to a place where there were no English people at all, I was able to use it a bit more. But still, people burst out laughing at the sound of a blonde English girl speaking gangster Turkish.

I wish there was a way around the pronunciation and lipreading challenge. But the problem is, I have enough trouble pronouncing words from my own language and still don't get the lipreading right either, and that's with 30-odd years of practice.

In the meantime however, it can't hurt to practice. So I'm just off to have a go at some beginners Dutch on the DuoLingo website so that when I am next in Rotterdam (or anywhere) I can give it a go, hopefully without people laughing at me.

Happy Monday peeps.

DG

Deaf Girly and her skiing lover

This week, I haven't been wearing my hearing aids. I've been enjoying the comfort of my new glasses without the additional hardware behind my ears. And mostly I've got by OK.

But there have been some noticeable times when I've struggled – mainly in shops at the till when paying. It's been so long since I've struggled with this that I'd kind of forgotten how hard it used to be – the 'Would you like a bag?' question, the random conversation they've been told to make by management, the payment chit-chat and the where-the-heck-I-want-them-to-put-the-receipt conundrum.

With my hearing aids, I tend not to have too much trouble with this.

Today however, was an absolute car crash of mishearing. In Uniqlo, I'm surprised I managed to get out of there without my face exploding in a big red embarrassed mess, while in Marks & Spencer, I tried to plan ahead as much as possible about what I might be asked and still didn't get it right. And then I started to flap, and I almost walked straight out of Oliver Bonas with an empty bag after I hadn't realised they were still gift wrapping what I had bought. And no one thought my strange behaviour was because of my deafness, they all just thought I was totally bonkers. Which actually is highly probable on reflection.

One good thing to come out of this is that not wearing my hearing aids this week has really made me appreciate what they give me when I do wear them – often without really noticing. They take my 2D world and make it 3D and they also remove a lot of the angst involved in everyday tasks that I experience without them.

And I can honestly say that I will NOT be going shopping without my hearing aids again. There's only so many times a shop assistant can repeat a question without both you and them wanting to curl up into a ball and die.

No more so than a few weeks ago when I was skiing – without hearing aids as I get feedback in my helmet – and went to the ski hire shop to get some skis. The man had a strong French accent and was a bit grumpy looking.

'What's your lover?' he said, as I tried to stay upright in my newly tightened ski boots.

'My what?' I said, looking at him in panic.

'Your lover,' he said, adding a Gallic shrug for good measure.

I looked blank.

'Your skiing lover! Tell me your skiing lover?' he continued, looking at me like I was a complete moron.

I went through the word again and again in my head, replacing bits of it to see if I got a more feasible word and eventually cracked it.

'My skiing level?' I asked.

Yes I'd got it eventually but not before he and everyone around me thought I was a total moron.

So if you ever serve me in a shop and I look like a rabbit caught in headlights every time you say something, I promise you I am not stupid, I am just deaf. And overwhelmed. And still blushing from the skiing lover mix-up thing.

Happy Thursday peeps.

DG
x

Deaf Girly and modern technology

Today I was able to do the most fabulous thing – chat to one of my best friends Miss K who lives in South Africa over FaceTime and, with the help of my pink POP phone handset, I was able to follow everything.

Amazing huh?

What I am a bit horrified about however, is that Miss K has lived in South Africa for three years now and that was the first time I had FaceTimed her. You see, after spending most of my adult life unable to use the phone, I still forget that I can call people over FaceTime and actually 'hear' (OK, lipread) them, thanks to the perfectly matched picture and sound.

I am still amazed that I can follow what is going on, after years of simply pretending.

For example, when I was a teenager, one of my good friends used to call me on the phone on my birthday every year for a chat. He was from Kent and had a very strong accent that I found hard enough to understand in person, let alone on the telephone. He'd call up and we'd chat for an hour, with me guessing the whole time what he might be saying. By the end of the hour I was absolutely exhausted and also slightly nervous that I'd said something random, answered something wrong, or he thought I was completely mad. I have no idea why I didn't just not have that phone call with him. But that was back in the 90s when email wasn't the norm and I was still years away from getting my first mobile phone.

Looking back, I cannot imagine how I would have got by as an adult in the 90s. With crap internet and the main form of communication for everyone being the phone. I think there would have been a massive chance that I would have lost contact with a lot of people. Or just had totally misunderstood phone conversations with them a lot of the time.

I feel so lucky that I live in a time where technology makes things easier. Where restaurants and hair appointments can be booked online, where texts can be sent in the place of phone calls and emails are a perfectly acceptable. Where I can call my friend, over the internet and lipread what she is saying for free. Where there are apps for song lyrics, subtitles on most things and a world where I know longer have to fight with plugging in the caption reader.

Anyone else end up in a rage about the amazing puzzle of wires needed to get those words up on the screen?

I can still remember the look of horror on my friends' parents' faces when I showed up for sleepovers armed with my Caption Reader and proceeded to trash their carefully set up TVs just so I could watch a video. And even then you had to make sure that the video in question had the CC symbol on the side, which back in the 90s was also a rarity.

I think that also explains why I don't really watch movies. I forget that I can. They never really became an integral part of my life. I'm missing a huge chunk of movie education. And the last new release I saw at the cinema was Sex & The City 2.

So I've made a pact with myself. I'm going to remind myself that modern technology makes lots of things possible that I forget about. I'm going to FaceTime more, watch movies with subtitles more and generally see if  I can embrace all the things I learnt to live without but no longer need to.

I'm on a mission.

Starting with another FaceTime conversation with Miss K very soon.

DG
x

Deaf Girly and the song lyrics

I'm off to Rotterdam (or anywhere) soon and this has meant for the last few weeks, I've had the ear worm (yep, even through my hearing aids) of that catchy song by The Beautiful South. However, the only words I know are 'Rotterdam or anywhere, Liverpool or Rome' and then I am stumped.

I did't even know what the song was about until I found a subtitled YouTube video last night.

I remember realising I couldn't hear song words four years before I knew I was deaf. I was six years old and my grandparents gave me a red Walkman cassette player and a Kylie album for Christmas. The first thing I had to do was crank the volume up to the highest level and even then with those fetching foam covered flimsy 80s headphones, I could hardly hear it – but I assumed that this was just something that everyone struggled with. And then I remember truly believing that pop stars didn't sing song words. I thought they just mumbled the words and that it was your job to guess what was being said.

On a totally separate subject, I actually used to think that was the whole point of Dictation exercises at school, too and often used to used them to creatively enhance the story instead of writing what was being said as I couldn't hear what was being said. And then was totally gutted and confused when I did badly in them.

Anyway, back to those song words. The first time I realised that song words actually did exist was when I started singing my own version of Hand On Your Heart by Kylie with some friends from my class on the rounders pitch and they all started laughing at me. Mortified, I found the words in the cassette cover and memorised the whole lot to prevent it happening again. Assuming that this is what all my friends had done in the first place.

On discovering I was deaf, a lot of things started to make sense – dictation at school was in fact a test of your ability to follow and write down a story without making errors, French listening was actually to see whether you understood the words, not whether you heard them, and the violin – those high notes, well that wasn't guess work, normal people could actually hear them.

And don't even get me started on the fact that birds actually sing.

Anyway, back to those song words. Back in the 90s, there was no internet to Google lyrics on, so instead I spent all my pocket money on Fast Forward and Smash Hits magazines so I could tear out the lyrics pages and learn them after recording the Top 40 charts off Radio 1 onto my pink and white cassette recorder.

For years, my bedroom cupboards were plastered with the lyrics to Chesney Hawkes, New Kids On The Block and most importantly Kylie. 

Next, came a rather amazing school friend who wrote all the lyrics I requested into a book for me and another friend who mouthed them to me with hilarious home-made sign language that I can still remember to this day.

It worked – and it's these songs that I can still remember all the lyrics to.

By university, lyrics websites had popped up and so I printed and learnt the lyrics to the songs that I needed to bounce around to in the Students Union – storing them in a ring binder, creating quite a library. And then all of a sudden came the Sound Hound and Metro Lyrics apps which worked with your smartphone and literally turned it into a Karaoke machine and the rest is history.

To this day however, I still don't really get the importance of lyrics. In fact, quite often, learning the lyrics can actually ruin a song for me. My favourite songs are much more about the chord sequences or melodies than what the lyrics are. I feel quite lucky that while my deafness has take away so much clarity of speech, but I still seem to be able to retain my understanding of pitch and melody. So long as it's not more than an octave and a half above middle C. 

But for the sake of my sanity, I did google the lyrics to Rotterdam Or Anywhere and they're really quite weird, but I'm going to learn them, if only to get me out of the 2-line repetitive rut I am stuck in.

So if you hear someone singing The Beautiful South, horribly out of tune in a check in queue at Heathrow in the next few weeks, be sure to wave won't you?

DG

xx

Deaf Girly and the taxman

A few weeks ago I put out a panicky tweet about my self assessment thingumajig for the tax man and the lovely @CazzONeill told me about the 'additional needs' link on the HMRC website. In that section there is the option to book a face-to-face meeting with a tax bod. So I clicked on the link and two hours later was presented with my appointment time and date.

Amazing huh?

And today I went along to it. Apparently, according to the tax bod I met, there aren't any offices anymore for these meetings and instead they book a room in an office space for the meeting that is required and that is what I turned up to. There wasn't a single HMRC sign in sight, which I found a little bit worrying at first, but luckily he had his ID.

And so he talked me through the whole self-assessment process. He answered all my questions, and created an amazing PacMan/Taxman analogy that I've completely forgotten about – and I left there happier but poorer.

I chatted to him a bit about how great this service is and he said that he could put me forward to give feedback on it, but that they would call me to get this feedback – the only mega-fail of the whole service HMRC provides.

Knowing that I can get an appointment to ask about tax stuff is absolutely invaluable. It means I don't have to get someone to lift the phone, or struggle to make the call and worry that I have missed something. I would definitely recommend using this service and am slightly terrified that Government cuts will see it sidelined in the future.

It got me thinking whether there are any other places you can get these face-to-face meetings? I have requested one with the Citizens Advice Bureau before but they actively seem to discourage this and push people towards phone calls or email.

Let me know though what your experiences have been.

I'm just off to start documenting my taxes for the 2014/2015 tax year – after all, I know how to now.

Have a luffly evening peeps.

DG
xx

Deaf Girly Reviews gets up and running

I have exciting news. See that tab just above this blog post that says 'Deaf Girl Reviews'? Well, I've finally got it up and running – and I've posted my first review too, about the Subtitles Viewer app available on iOS.

Deaf Girl Reviews is going to be the place where I write about my cinema and theatre experiences, the latest tech, apps I've found and anything else techy or deaf-consumer related.

Why? Because there's so many things out there that can help that I don't know about yet. And the things I do know about, other people don't know about. It's like that wonderful speech that Donald Rumsfeld gave about unknown unknowns, which later became the inspiriting of a brilliant book by Mark Forsyth about independent bookshops called The Unknown Unknown, which is well worth a read if it's currently unknown to you.

So if there's something I should know about, write about, review, pull apart or try, then get in touch with me @deafgirly on Twitter, where I can mostly be found tweeting about the extraordinarily large amount of Tunnocks Caramel Wafers I manage to eat, or email me at deafinitelygirly@gmail.com.

Happy Thursday peeps

DG
x

Deaf Girly and the spinning class

It's January.

I spent most of Christmas eating chocolate. For every meal of the day. Including midnight feasts and snack times. I also spent a very small amount of Christmas doing exercise. I worked my biceps by opening the fridge, my glutes by getting on and off the sofa and my abs by leaning back to pat my stomach after a big meal. *raises eyebrow*

So naturally, I am joining the nation in a Get Fit for 2015 crusade.

This for me means going to the gym. And more specifically going to classes where I am trapped in a room for 45 minutes and cannot leave or slack off without being yelled at by an amazingly perky skinny – clearly didn't eat chocolate for every meal over Christmas – instructor.

I've covered the subject of exercise on my blog regularly over the years. I covered my experience of training for my first running race, my experience of a gym that didn't want to let me workout unaccompanied because it thought my deafness was a health and safety risk, and I have covered some of my more amusing Zumba classes.

More recently, I talked about how hard it is for me to hear in exercise classes and how I always wonder what I am actually getting out of them.

But yesterday, I forced myself to go to an evening spinning class. I got there half an hour early and took my time getting changed, before wandering into the studio to find the equivalent of a German sun lounger battle occurring. Ever spin bike was taken by towels, water bottles and clothing, but not a person was there.

'Ah-ha,' I thought, I will know this for next time, before taking my place behind a pillar on a bike that looked like it had done several rounds of the Tour de France.

The lycra-clad instructor arrived shortly afterwards, turned off the lights, turned up the music, turned on a disco ball (yes really) and started yelling into a microphone attached to her face.

From behind the pillar, I had absolutely no idea what was going on. Although in all honesty, I am not sure that from in front of the pillar I would have had a better idea.

Very briefly, I considered requesting the eviction of a person on one of the bikes situated in a more convenient place for lipreading, but given that it had been reserved more than 40 minutes earlier, and I seemed to be invading some sort of spinning clique, I thought better of it.

So instead, I decided to focus on the person next to me and copy what she did.

Except for the duration of the first song, she was reading BBC news on her phone while paying no attention to whatever the hell the instructor was yelling about.

In short, it was the most odd 45 minutes of my week so far. And I have absolutely no idea if it did anything for my fitness whatsoever. Although I was quite red in the face when I came out, but that could have been from the sheer humiliation of the whole situation.

It got me thinking though, is there a loop system I could give the instructor so I could have a direct pick up to what she was saying? If I had that, plus I managed to get my towel on a bike to reserve it two days before the class was scheduled I might have a hope of actually doing a spinning class, rather than just cycling like a lunatic in a room full of strangers.

But my fitness quest is not going to stop there. I am also going to ask FJM to force me to get better at running. So I can do this. On my own. Outside. For free. Without anyone reserving anything with their towel, or a mad instructor screaming incomprehensible instructions into a microphone.

So keep a look out for a mad looking deaf girl running while clutching an egg timer (read all about the time I actually did run with an egg timer here) and the very lovely (and good at running) FJM jogging along next to her.

Coming soon to a park near you!

*beams

Deaf Girly on the mountain

Today's blog comes from the snow.

*beams

The Swiss snow to be precise and after yesterday's downfall, there's a lot more of it, too.

I love being in the moutnains. I love how it can be so cloudy you can't see the end of your own nose one minute, and then blue skies and sunshine the next.

Right now, it is the former, with rain, which is why I am cosy and warm in the ski flat looking out of the window and writing this blog.

One thing I have done that has surprised me this week, is completely ditch my hearing aids. So I am back to being very deaf at all times. Up the mountain, it doesn't reallly matter. I can use my eyes to check if there's someone behind me rather than listening for the grating of their skies carving into the snow, and for FJM and DangerMouse, there's hand signals.

I've mainly ditched my hearing aids because when I put a helmet on my head they go absolutely crazy and start whistling like demented Jiminy Crickets. Add some sunglasses and it's just plain painful. Hearing aids and ski helmets are not for me.

The first day I skied without my hearing aids, they were the first thing I reinstated once I was back for the day. But for the last two days, I haven't bothered. And it's been quite nice actually. OK, so I haven't been able to hear what DangerMouse is saying, but FJM is doing a good job of translating for me.

What it's reminded me though is what life pre-hearing aids was like. When I had to rely on someone to be my ears and when I used to get so tired from listening, I'd fall asleep in group situations - last night I basically fell asleep on the sofa at 8pm and only woke to eat something before falling asleep again.

My hearing aids stop all that. They stop me from getting exhuasted with the effort of day-to-day listening. They give me a more effortless insight into what is going on.

So as soon as this holiday's over, they going to be reinstated. But for now, I'm rather enjoying my deaf(er) week. A week of regular naps, complete snowy silence and tech-free ears.

DG
x

Deaf Girly's Thankful Friday

Much to my annoyance, I've fallen off the blogging wagon recently.

I promised myself that this wouldn't happen – but it has.

But it's Thankful Friday and I cannot possibly neglect this.

If I'm honest I've had a bit of a tough week. Sometimes being a grown-up, and dealing with the responsibilities you've chosen to take on, is hard.

Things like home-owning for example (*leaves that thought there).

So this week, when I've felt like running to the top of a mountain and screaming at the top of my lungs about the insanity of it all, I have reminded myself that there are loads of amazing things and people in my life. And for that I am very very thankful.

There's also a distinct lack of mountains in London. And if I did go out and scream at the top of my lungs, I would either be arrested or avoided like some crazy person.

And I think it's fair to say I'm not the crazy one here.

When things are trying in life, it's really easy to think that everything is bad. And it's not. It's just one thing. OK, so it might feel like the end of the world, but if you lay everything out, and assess it, it's really not.

I remember doing this when I was about 17. When I'd lost a lot of my hearing and I felt that my deafness was the end of the world and I couldn't see the good stuff anymore. It wasn't the end of the world, it was just a gentle nudge in a different direction to the one I thought I was going to be taking.

So this week, as Friday draws to a close, I'm reminding myself that the current crap in my life will probably give me a gentle nudge in a direction I might not otherwise have gone. And actually when you think about it like that, it's a little bit exciting.

This week however, I have people to thank for keeping me sane in the crap – Ma, London Aunt, Friend Who Knows Big Words, Hannah Banana, and of course the fabulous (UTH-06:00) FJM.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

There is one more thing I am thankful for this week and that is that I will soon be at the top of that mountain and, if it's people free, I am going to yell my head off. Get it all off my chest. Find some peace with the whole situation.

Bring it on.

Have a lovely weekend peeps

DG
x

Deaf Girly's Thankful (not Black) Friday

Today is Thankful Friday.

Not Black Friday.

And I am thankful that I am not one of the people that felt compelled to queue for something I didn't need while being photographed by The Daily Mail this morning.

I am thankful that I do not need to buy anything so badly that I will lose a shoe running for it, or risk arrest scrapping with someone else because there is only one thing left.

I am thankful that I did most of my Christmas shopping last week – and still saved 20% thanks to those amazing voucher code things.

So anyway, yes, I am one of those people raising a disdainful eyebrow at the invasion of Black Friday on UK shores, especially when we haven't got the day before it to celebrate – Thanksgiving – and were not able to take holiday yesterday and stuff ourselves with an unpardoned turkey.

However, this weekend FJM and I will be doing something a bit early for both of us and putting up the Christmas tree. It's ready and waiting to be decorated and lit and to fill our little flat with festive cheer. And I can't wait.

I love Christmas. Not the shopping or the traffic chaos or the snow that one year prevented us from going away to somewhere erm… snowy. Instead, I love fact that ordinary things become festive. Things like switching on lights – not table lights but fairy lights. Or buying satsumas, which always taste much better in December. Or baking – because it's the only time of year I actually make pastry. Although my mince pies always look like pork pies for some reason.

Cranberry sauce fights for shelf space with canapés to rival a wedding and wrapping paper gets more wardrobe space than shoes. Chocolate becomes an acceptable breakfast food.

And then there's the pang.

Every year about this time, I start to feel a pang. A pang that I want to spend all my time with the people most important to me.

And that is what I am most thankful for today. That I have these amazing people who I love very much.

Happy Friday peeps.

DG
x

Deaf Girly hears a baby (I KNOW!)

A few weeks ago, I went to meet SuperCathyFragileMystic's new baby, Baby A.

And she is cute. Cute in the way that I don't think I put her down the whole time I was there, unless I had to, or someone offered me a biscuit, or I was asleep on the sofa.

I love babies. Especially ones that belong to my friends, because I get to enjoy all the great bits but still get eight hours sleep at the end of it. If I ever have my own, this will not be the case.

Anyway, one of my anxieties about babies is that I can't really hear them cry. They're completely out of my frequency, unless I'm actually holding them right there, or they're in a quiet room with me, and I"m awake!

Take the time, aged 22, I babysat for London Aunt and Uncle while they went to a party next door. London Cousin 2 – a young toddler at the time – decided to have complete hysterics in her bedroom, which had a stair gate across the door and I heard nothing. It was only when London Aunt and Uncle heard her crying from the party next door and came over to find a puce and downright furious London Cousin 2, that we all realised that a baby alarm would be a really good idea.

But don't get me wrong, not hearing babies crying has its benefits. Overnight visits to friends with kids means I am rarely disturbed. Unless of course they burst into the room I'm in and actually start yelling in my face that is.

So anyway, after a long day of baby holding, I had fallen asleep on SCFM's sofa. Baby A was snoozing in her crib in the living room and SCFM was indulging in her Strictly Come Dancing obsession.

And then, all of a sudden, before I knew what was happening, I was stood in the living room, holding SCFM's three week old daughter.

And SCFM was laughing. Apparently, Baby A had made one loud squawk and I had leapt up (from being fast asleep) and picked her up and stopped her crying. Except I did all this without even realising I'd done it.

I did the whole thing on instinct. SCFM was impressed.

And me? Well, I found myself beaming. Somehow my rubbish ears had managed to tune into the one important thing in the room and made sure she woke me up. Made sure I went into autopilot and that Baby A's cries didn't fall on deaf ears.

And do you know what? I could have cried. With absolute relief. Relief that my ears worked a little bit better than usual just when I needed them to.

Amazing huh?

Happy Monday peeps

DG

Deaf Girly's book addiction

Over the last week. I've had a cold. I've felt ill. My face has what looks like a thousand spots. It's red and blotchy from the fast-approaching winter. I don't know whether to smother it in tea tree oil or moisturiser.

I hardly recognise myself.

Most days I leave the house with a sigh, a cough and sniff. But leave the house I do. Mainly because I'm excited about my bus ride to work.

Why?

Because I can read.

I am racing through the books on my Kindle at the moment. Currently I am reading the Unfinished Symphony of You & Me by Lucy Robinson and in my ill, hazy, emotional state, I found myself bawling my eyes out on the bus this morning.

Warm and cosy under the cream checked alpaca scarf that is actually a blanket (no really, my Ma took it off a bedroom display in a shop and fashioned it around her neck to see if it would fit the bill before buying it for me for my birthday) I was a snivelling wreck as the characters I'd come to know and love went through quite a bit of emotional trauma.

Add red puffy eyes to the mix of my amazingly unrecognisable face.

I've written before about the amazing escapism I get from reading. About how I can disappear into a world where I hear everything but don't have to have a presence. Nothing is required of me. Nothing except the ability to read the words and click the button to turn the pages.

When I read a book, it doesn't matter anymore that I am red, blotchy, puffy eyed, snotty and spotty. (What an amazing vision I am?!). It doesn't matter that my hair has taken a turn for the worst and turned into straw – fluffy, uncontrollable, coarse straw.

It doesn't even matter that by scragging it into a ponytail (How do people do those effortless up-dos?) and wearing my glasses – because my eyes are stinging from feeling ill – my hearing aids push my ears out at right angles and make me look like a cross between Big Ears from Noddy and a vagrant Cabbage Patch Doll.

Because I am IN THE BOOK.

And that's where you'll find me for the next few weeks. In other people's books and in my own. The latter needs a lot of work. And there's no better time for it.

Happy Wednesday peeps

DG
x

Deaf Girly and the light bulb

I have a cold.

*sniffs

As well as all the usual side effects of a cold – the nose-blowing, the sniffing, the sneezing so many times you do your entire weekly quota of sit-ups in one go – I am also much much deafer than usual.

I seem to have lost the edge of the sound that helps me get by. That turns the lipreading into comprehensible conversation.

So yesterday, I had a snuffly lunch with one of my favourite people TT. We were sat there chatting and I was getting by until suddenly I lipread the word 'boobs' at the exact same time that she did a corresponding hand movement that also looked like boobs.

I sat there for a moment backtracking, recounting the train of conversation, my mind flailing around wildly, fork mid-aid as I struggled to work out why the hell TT was telling me about boobs complete with sign language when just a second ago we'd been talking about her new flat in Battersea.

'Boobs?' I said, stuffing a mouthful of EAT's delicious Falafel salad in my mouth.

'Boobs?' TT replied, the question mark audible even with my very, very deaf ears.

'Boobs.' I said back, fighting back a snort of laughter for fear of falafel coming out of my nose.

'Didn't you just say boobs?' I continued, while doing the exact hand movements (kind of Benny Hill-esque ones) at the same time.

And at that moment there was a slight danger of TT's meatball panini being laughed all over EAT…

Turns out boobs and bulbs (as in the ones for lights) look the same when lipreading… and the dual hand action of screwing in a lightbulb, cupped around the bulbous bit…

Yes...

That.

So we went shopping after lunch to buy boobs. Still giggling like a pair of schoolgirls.

Problem is, I have a day full of meetings today. Important ones. With important people.

Please nobody say bulbs. Or anything else with dual lipreading consequences.

Such as colourful. And I love you.

Wish me luck peeps...

*sneezes

Deaf Girly: I'm hearing when I read

After the excitement of discovering you can download programs with subtitles to iPlayer and watch them offline later, I've been spending my commute watching all sort of documentaries and dramas.

The downside of this however, is that I have missed reading. I've missed the pure escapism of immersing yourself in a world created by someone else.

So last week I dusted off my Kindle, charged it up and set off through the books waiting there patiently to be read.

When I first moved to London 10 years ago, I didn't know anyone – except London Aunt and Uncle. I was also struggling with my deafness in the profession I had chosen. The reality of being deaf made me cry most days. All the listening and attempting to use the phone was exhausting.

And so everyday, I read for one hour on my way to and from work. My chosen authors – Freya North and Katie Fforde. Freya North because many of her books were set in London and so I'd take myself off to find the places her characters went, which meant I spent quite a lot of time in the National Gallery talking to Mr and Mrs Andrews in Gainsborough's painting (Read her book Chloe if you want to meet them yourself).

And Katie Fforde because her books were set in the Wild West erm Country – my childhood home –and it was amazing to be back while seeing it through new eyes.

In those early days, I read their latest books and re-read their old books. And in that one hour as I hurtled under London in a tin tube (I didn't hate the Underground back then), I wasn't deaf and struggling to follow what was going on. I could follow everything. I could 'hear' conversations. I wasn't left exhausted. And I didn't feel lonely.

And this week, after ploughing through the books on my Kindle I've realised that even though 10 years have passed and I'm way more confident and sorted about my deafness, I still love the fact that when I step into a book, I 'hear' everything and miss nothing.

And so, while I love the iPad and downloadable BBC programmes very much, I'm giving it up – at least for my morning commute anyway. After all, why have subtitles when you can step into a book and 'hear'.

Have a fab Tuesday peeps

DG
x

Deaf Girly and the Step class

Today I went to the gym for my usual lunchtime workout where I don't talk to anyone, interact with anyone or hear anything. My hearing aids come out and I just zone out for one hour. It's bliss.

But as I walked in today, there were the tokens for the lunchtime classes sat by the towel bales and for some reason I picked up a token for a step class.

I usually avoid classes – especially ones I have never done before like step as I find them so hard to follow and always end up making a complete fool of myself. And so, as I was throwing on my kit hastily I was having a mental yell at myself for being such an idiot.

The tiny optimist in me suggested that I might enjoy it. That I might follow it and that it might be OK. So gripping onto that thought, I headed into the already full studio.

Everyone had set up their step. There was very little space left. In fact, the only space left was a bit of the studio floor that was a bit shonky and that according to the instructor who was extremely bouncy and bit shouty, 'YOU WEREN'T ALLOWED TO JUMP ON'.

'But see how you get on and move if it feels too dodgy' he said cheerfully before adjusting his sweatband and getting on with the class.

Honestly, I looked like a newborn foal on acid but I did try very hard. And for that I think I should get a gold star. And what's more – I actually enjoyed it a little bit, too. I enjoyed zoning out and following the moves of the instructor.

OK, so I was about half a move behind him constantly as I had no idea what he was yelling down his head microphone. But it was 45 minutes of pure escapism. Of spoon fed exercise. Of just doing what everyone else was doing.

Has it made me braver about trying other classes? Quite possibly yes. I mean, I'm not sure I will ever try Body Pump without a friend to tell me what weight I should be using when, but Step was simple. You got on the step. You got off the step. You waved your arms around. You looked like a complete nutter.

Well I did anyway.

So if you were at my gym at lunchtime and wondered who the girl was dancing slightly out of time with no clue what was going on, refusing to do any of the jumping moves for fear of crashing through the slightly shonky bit of floor. That was me.

I looked good eh?

Happy Tuesday peeps

DG
x

Deaf Girly and the accidental manicure

OK so today is Thankful Friday and I'm thankful that it's almost the weekend.

AT LAST!

Penfold and Dangermouse are coming this weekend and we're going to do some touristy London stuff and catch up. Can't wait.

So anyway, I am typing this blog today with a perfect, brand new gel manicure in dark grey. My nails look amazing. I'm thrilled (and broke). And, it's only thanks to my deafness that I've got them.

Eh?

You see, I've never been very good (or confident) at making beauty appointments – I can't make phone calls to book things like haircuts and manicures, which means I have to go in to the salon and book things. But the noise of the hairdryers, chatter and general hubbub, plus the fact the receptionist is looking at the computer not me, makes it very difficult for me to lipread or indeed hear.

My last hair cut was in March.

I've had five manicures in my entire life. Well, six now.

But for HannahBanana's wedding two weeks ago, I bit the bullet and booked a gel manicure. And then I booked a removal for two weeks time, which was yesterday.

When I went in to book it, the salon was very busy and I was served by a girl who appeared to be a little spacey. Spacey in a way that she looked like she would much rather be chatting to her mates on What'sApp that talking to me.

I left with the knowledge that I'd booked a gel manicure removal for 6pm. The next day I received an appointment confirming my appointment for 6.30pm.

*raises eyebrow*

Anyway, once there I sat down and had my nails wrapped in tin foil pads soaked with nail polish remover. And while I was waiting, the fast-talking beautician showed me the latest colours of gel nail polishes.

We oohed and aaaahed over the shades for winter – the deep plums and browns, and the glitter ones for parties and I pointed out the dark grey shade as my favourite.

I tried to follow what she was saying but couldn't really until she started putting on the base coat for my new manicure.

And then the penny dropped.

Not only had the receptionist booked me in at a completely different time, she'd also booked me in for a whole new gel manicure.

Being me I didn't dare slam the brakes on and say 'WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA NO! I did not sign up to this new expensive gel manicure as they cost £30 and are strictly for special occasions.'

I didn't even say, 'I'm terribly sorry but this error might well be mine as I can't hear and definitely couldn't hear your spacey receptionist when I made the appointment.'

Instead I just smiled and went along with new manicure. Parting with cash and leaving the salon with very shiny grey nails and the promise that they will last for two weeks until I come in to have them removed.

And when I do, I think I am going to take a hearing friend with me – otherwise this whole not-hearing-in-beauty-salons business could get rather expensive.

Happy Friday peeps

DG
x

Deaf Girly's radio rage

I have just had the most horrendous few minutes in my hearing aid-wearing life.

Listening to a song called In The Morning by The Coral.

Now, I have 'heard' this song many times before – indeed, it came out a good few years before I got my hearing aids and while it's not really my favourite song in the whole world, it hasn't, in the past, left me wanting to throw the radio out the window.

So today, sat at my desk I was aware that this was the song on the radio – I was also aware of what to me sounded like the noise those cow bells you used to occasionally get let loose on in music classes in school when someone else had already beaten you to the cymbals but the triangle was still up for grabs.

It was horrific. Distracting. Clanging. Grim. Frustrating. And kind of rage inducing. As well as drowning out almost all the other sound I could her in the office.

'What is that noise?' I asked before being told it was actually part of the song. Part of the song that pre-hearing aids, I had been completely unable to hear.

You see one of the things that makes my Phonak Sound Recover hearing aids so great is that they move the sounds I can't hear into frequencies I can. But this isn't always done tunefully.

I discovered this when I tried playing my flute with my new hearing aids shortly after getting them and almost died at the cacophony of high notes coming from what was once my most prized possession. Read all about that here.

 And it seems, after more than two years, I have found another thing that sounds plain wrong with my hearing aids in...

So the next time In The Morning by The Coral comes on, the hearing aids are coming off. Well it's either that or the radio's getting chucked out the window…

Happy Wednesday peeps

DG
x

A thankful Monday

Today's blog is about one of my favourite people.

I haven't seen him for more years than I knew him now, but he's here. He's everywhere.

Whenever I see people queuing for tube tickets or crossing platforms to change tube lines.

Whenever I walk through Soho in the evening and remember aged 15 when I was wide-eyed in wonder.

Whenever I stroll through the park and see the slightly wonky tree – the tallest of four. The strongest. A launch pad for messages heading for the sky.

Whenever I don't boil the potatoes long enough. Or when I feel the need to watch Flashdance.

Or better still, Grand Designs.

Whenever I start a chore and fall asleep on the sofa – leaving it unfinished and mess everywhere.

And whenever I'm cooking while holding a glass of wine chatting to people in the kitchen – I must do this last one more often.

People don't really go. I mean they disappear from your life physically but it's all the little things they leave behind that pepper your daily life with awesome memories and experiences.

So today, on this slightly chaotic, vaguely sunny, bother-it's-Monday kind of day, I'm thinking of him.

Big love
DG
x

Deaf Girly sleep talks

People who know me, will be well aware of the fact that I'm a bit of a chatterbox.

Ever since I was little I have liked to talk. About anything and everything. I just like words.

I also spend quite a lot of the time I am asleep talking, too. Friends have told me this when we've shared rooms. And it seems to run in the family as well. One Christmas while sharing a room with London Aunt and French Cousin 2, we were all sleep talking. London Aunt with expletives (that's all she ever seems to say in her sleep), French Cousin 2 in French and me – well I have no idea what I was saying as I was asleep at the time.

A while ago I downloaded a sleep talking app for my iPhone. It is noise activated and so you leave it running at night and it records anything you say. But after a week of monitoring, I was disappointed that I had yet to be recorded saying anything.

So I stopped using it.

Since FoxyJM and I moved in together however, I've been more than a little talkative – much to his increasing amusement.

In the first week of our new flat, I apparently shouted, 'Fantastic! Fat penguin,' very loudly while he was still awake and reading.

More recently, I proclaimed, 'It's a process!' with what he said was a mix of anger and frustration and then two nights ago, after I'd fallen asleep ahead of him he was lucky enough to hear me declare:

'Invoices. No invoices today. Unless you want them?'

Before rolling over and face planting the pillow.

Cue much mirth from him. And questions the next morning about whether invoices are ever a part of my daily life – they're not.

I've blogged a few times about how I'm always hearing (never deaf) in my dreams – here and here – and I wonder if, because I can hear in them and follow everything that's going on, my brain can't switch off. So I talk my way through them.

I know if I woke up with perfect hearing I wouldn't be able to switch off. So perhaps it's the same in my dreams.

So now, I'm eagerly awaiting the next update from FoxyJM about just what I chatter about in my sleep. And maybe it's time to dig out that sleep talking app again.