Weekly Washing Woes

A friend was talking about the old twin-tub washing machines that finally went out of fashion in the early 1980s with the advent of modern machines. I couldn't help but think back to my experience with a twin-tub machine.

My children were small so my twin-tub was always on the go. However one day it wouldn't drain. It was impossible to fit anything into the tub to scoop the water out with. In my many travels around the world, I'd seen men in Africa and Australia siphon petrol from one place to another, it looked straightforward enough. Taking a deep breath I placed one end of the hose in the first water and holding the other end of the hose I sucked hard... I forgot the rules of gravity, the object you suck from must be higher than the object you are transforming liquid into, unfortunately, short as I am I was a good bit higher than the machine. I swallowed a mouthful of dirty soapy water but it felt like I'd swallowed gallons -2.5 liters. I staggered back and fell to the floor gasping for air, just then my children came into the kitchen and saw me, they panicked and ran to a neighbour's house. To add insult to injury, while I was busy with the washing, my daughters were playing dressing up in my bedroom without my knowledge. One was covered in makeup and the youngest one was wearing my very best fancy bra.

Several neighbors rushed in, saw me gasping on the floor, assumed I was having a heart attack, and called emergency services. I couldn't speak to explain what happened. An ambulance with flashing lights pulled up outside, they took one look at me placed me on a structure, and rushed me to the hospital crash unit. They attached equipment to me while I lay gasping trying to point to my throat. They talked among themselves saying my heart was fast but appeared alright. Finally, after what seemed an age, I managed to croak hoarsely "Water". Someone understood me and held a cup for me to sip some. "Can you tell us where the pain is and what happened?" A doctor asked. !I wallowed whopping machine waller". I replied. They looked at me. Then at each other trying to work out what language I was speaking. It took a couple of minutes before a nurse said triumphantly "She's English and she swallowed dirty washing water". Everyone in the room apart from me looked at her approvingly.

A few hours later I was discharged. I didn't dare to tell my lovely neighbours the truth of what I'd done.. Sadly we moved to a bigger house. I suspect those lovely people in that street can still recall that day. Hopefully, they still don't know the truth.

Peter and the Wolf

"Peter and the Wolf" Bored watching the sheep Peter constantly cried 'WOLF'. The townspeople were fed up responding to his false cries for help. Then one day, the wolf appeared unexpectedly and Peter's cries for help went unanswered. Peter and the sheep perished.

Last year I had an amazingly straightforward operation on my right eye. For the first time in over 20 years, I can identify colours and shapes, however, reading, typing and other things remain problematic, I have my life back to a certain degree.

Almost everyone misplaces things from time to time. More often than not it's forgetfulness. Every day up and down the land millions of people will call in exasperation "Have you seen my keys? Has someone moved them?".

For the deafblind or anyone with a large degree of vision loss misplacing things and the inability to locate things is habitual, and extremely annoying and frustrating for those charged with finding things.

Small children habitually touch and move things, it is annoying but inevitable, more so when things belong to someone visually impaired. And so it was in my house. The number of things I'd misplaced and couldn't see or that had in fact been moved, lost, broken or taken must have run into thousands over the years, but that's life.

There's also another side to the story. When things are deliberately moved or taken. Sometimes to see the reaction, or because things were accidentally broken then binned to hide the evidence.

Then we have this - "The most common crime in Scotland 2022/23 was dishonesty. Taking someone's property without the owner's consent or knowledge".

Over the years I have 'lost' hundreds of things. However without going into detail - Recently I have "lost" quote-unquote my entire wardrobe of clothing minus jackets. Entire drawers of jumpers, tops, blouses, leggings, T-shirts etc and specific household items and utensils. Ironically no one came to check if I had indeed 'lost' these things. years of "losing" things as a 'previous blind woman' has been weaponised and served as cover to the thief.

I won't even attempt to describe how I feel yet I will no longer be forced to remain silent - I've since spoken to others who have been victims of similar crimes. Like me many have been discredited and culprits remain unchallenged. 

My family is my everything. The culprit in this instance is going through a tough time, but that does not justify this. In fact for some time now on and off the culprit has been staying in my home while I waited on them hand and foot, including breakfast in bed. That's what you do for loved ones or so I always thought. However, this does not mean I should take it on the chin.

I don't care what the contrived justification is, theft is theft there is no excuse, it is cowardly and immeasurably cruel - but then so using a disability as a cause to disbelieve and discredit an innocent victim. 

Happy Days

As a child "home" could be anywhere in the world but the main home was in Surrey. The house we always returned to in between our worldly travels. I loved the house and so many happy things happened there. our next-door neighbour was the adorably kind and funny Harry Secombe. Singer, actor, presenter, and one of "The Goons" (Also Spike Milligan, Peter Sellers and Michael Bentine). I knew nothing of the Goons but adored Harry and his wife Myra. Two of his children were older than me and two were slightly younger. Harry had a wonderfully loud laugh, the family-owned six boxer dogs I was terrified of them. Through Harry, I also met Peter Sellers. I remember he'd flirt with my mum much to my dad's annoyance. I had no idea he was famous until I saw the"Pink Panther films".

When we were in the UK in summer we'd attend the local cricket club and watch Surrey play. During the intervals, Harry would take me or one of his daughters around the pitch clutching a white bucket to collect money for charity. On Sunny days Harry and his wife would host a garden party for the neighbours and his friends which included Eric Sykes and Roy Castle. Castle was a horrid man, always drunk and rude to women and children. My dad had to be held back from punching him one day, Castle was a nasty drunk, and my dad spotted him pushing my brother out of the way causing him to fall.
My dad and his brother Sam were incredibly close, Sam knew everyone in the land of Politics and celebs. I was eight years old when "Lawrence of Arabia premiered. One day when I was with my two uncles we bumped into one of my uncle Ron's "Poker friends" who was none other than Omar Sharief. I may have been a child but I was utterly and totally star-struck and in love. Omar bent down, smiled and shook my hand. He melted my heart on the spot. When the film was to be premiered I begged to go with Sam Ron and my parents but I was too young. My uncle Ron persuaded my parents to allow me to enter the cinema by the back door accompanied by one of his female friends. We were allowed to sit in the projector box (which was boring) however we had the golden opportunity to say hello to Omar before he met the Queen.

A chap called Johnny Morris hosted a TV show called "Animal Magic". I have no idea how my dad came to meet him but apparently, Johnny had a couple of rabbits that needed to be rehomed. One was quite sick, and Dad knew my mum would care for it. And she did! Roger the rabbit had two large attic rooms to himself. Sadly his condition didn't improve, he died a few months later, which was probably just as well because we took off on our travels again.

No matter where we travelled, we'd always return to that big old house in Surrey. Now and then I still have dreams about the house and those happy times. I imagine walking into the sitting room where my two uncles, my parents and my father's other brothers and their wives. I imagine them all happily chatting and laughing. The large bar with its shelves of miniature whiskey bottles above it (dad was lifelong teetotal but collected whisky miniatures from around the world).

The large coal fire roaring and a still full bowl of chocolates sitting in the middle of the coffee table. (It was customary to have a bowl of sweets in the sitting room). The room always seemed happy, warm and full of love. I've dreamed it all a million times throughout the years. I love Surrey for the wonderful times and the beautiful memories it holds. My spiritual home is vastly different, 'home' is where I feel truly at peace with myself and the world - The desert. True bliss and peace for me remain in vast expanses of deserts. Western Australia has three massive deserts. Mention a desert and you'll probably think of a scorching dry barren expanse of burning hot sand when deserts are teeming with life

where I am truly at peace with myself and the world feels most at peace. The seemingly barren deserts that teem with life. yet truth be told my spiritual home isn't between four walls. Odd as it seems I loved the deserts of Australia and Africa. Those vast expanses of sand appear barren yet team with hidden life forces which most of us hope never to encounter at close range. I could happily talk about deserts all day...

Complexity

The Solar flares - aurora borealis - have appeared in unexpected places this year and will carry on as the solar storm continues with the unbelievable force of charged particles from the sun blasting into space and hitting Earth.

The severe space storm could knock out Mobile Phones this weekend.
I love the incredible music of Gustav Holst especially - The Planets - He brings each planet to life through music. However, he chose not to write a score for Earth, I imagine even the greatest mind would fail to create an orchestral piece that could encompass the cacophony of noise drifting across space from our home planet.

The Magical sounds of nature and laughter or the wind blowing gently through the trees, the sea lapping across the sands and pebbles. The call and caw of birds, dogs barking cats meowing and the millions of other magical sounds which say we are here. We exist. Our oval-shaped planet is bursting with beauty, love, goodness, laughter, unity and happiness. It would be impossible to compose a score replicating the beauty of Earth and all its wondrous simplicity and innocent complexity. Such sounds would be drowned out by thousands of aeroplanes of every size taking off and landing, circumnavigating the planet. The roar of traffic the billions of cars, buses, motorbikes, lorries and trucks zooming along every road in every land. The blast of bombs. rockets, missiles, guns. The screams of the trapped, injured and terrified. The agonising, gut-wrenching screams from children and adults alike as they look upon the torn bodies of the person or persons who, hours or moments ago had been living, breathing, standing or sitting beside them, loving them, protecting them and even sheltering them.

Nothing Holst or any other composer alive or dead could successfully compose a score to summarize this - our home. 1. Mars the Bringer of War. 2. Venus, the Bringer of Peace. 3. Mercry is the Winger Messenger. 4. Jupiter the Bringer of Jollity. 5. Saturn the Bringer of Old Age.

6. Uranus is the Magician.

7. Neptun is of the Mystic.

I can't possibly think of an appropriate name for Earth, The closest wor5d is Chaolity.

Cochlear Implants

 I came across something I'd written on my Facebook page in 2015 (at the bottom of this post). I can't believe it's only been 8 years. since the Cochlear transplants, which have given me the gift of hearing again for the first time in over 20 years. Most people have one transplant, I received two simultaneously.

The dual operation was carried out by two comparatively new surgeons and overseen by the consultant. The 3-hour procedure entailed cutting behind the ears and peeling back the hair and skin before drilling a hole and attaching an electrode fitted with a magnet behind each ear. Records show the youngest person to have a cochlear implant was a 6-month-old baby girl in 2014. Today in Scotland, the youngest person to have a Cochlear implant was a 6-week-old baby girl. The oldest person was a man aged 103! The surgeons who performed my miraculous surgery were a young man and a woman. I've often wondered who did which ear. There's no outward sign of the electrode and magnet on the left side of my head above the ear, the right side is positioned higher on my head and sticks out. they both work perfectly but one is better handwork. Until comparatively recently my 'party trick' was to attach forks or dessert spoons to my head, but the magnets attached to the exterior cochlear were causing pressure pains. Now my party trick has been reduced to attaching teaspoons instead.

                         -------------

Written in 2015

Dear World,

I've waited so long to hear you again. To hear laughter and join in. To dance in rhythm to music. I've yearned to sit with family and friends and converse freely, not feign comprehension and interest when the reality was I heard nothing nor could I see to read lips, I was there but unintentionally excluded., I existed but did not live.

The indescribable joy of listening to my grandchildren talk and laugh, voices I'd never heard before. The peace and happiness of sitting by the window and listening to rain splattering against the panes. To wake to the sound of birds chirping and calling to one another.

Please I beg. Don't make the sounds I hear negative, full of sadness or prejudice or hate, nor let the voices of News Reporters drone on about how many more innocents have been slaughtered through mindless greed and power-obsessed demons.

How I yearned for 'normality' and re-engagement with the world outside. Yet, I would willingly choose to be permanently deaf and blind again if it would make a difference in this beautiful world tainted with screams and blood, negativity unfairness cruelty and injustice.

Dear world, I pray to make the sounds that echo around this hearing world positive and good and of happiness peace and love. In truth painful as it would be. I would happily live enclosed in a world without vision and hearing than in a world of hate.

All reaction

The Simple Things

I've often wondered what my life would've been like if I hadn't sat under that eucalyptus tree all those years ago. It felt like I'd become a curiosity of science as doctors and specialists speculated and exchanged theories about the actual source of my unexplained dual sensory loss. It's easier for me to put it down to the spider bite, although that theory shocks some people. It could easily have been a combination of things. Travelling abroad used to entail vaccines for everything, we'll never know the exact cause, but I've spent a massive part of my life living with the consequences. 

I married had my children and worked hard to be a good mum, wife and business partner, but pretending to see and hear sufficiently in a world that didn't make allowance and inclusion for those things was soul-destroying. It's unintentional but extremely common for people with any degree of hearing loss to be 'left out' in general social interaction and within the family structures. 

I struggled on. I Studied Social work for a couple of years but had to drop out because of a lack of inclusion. The same happened with a Psychology course. I even completed a full computer programming course but didn't sit the exam. I was convinced I'd fail it because I hadn't had enough assistance. 

 I decided to join a Political Party not long before an election. It took courage to walk into the local constituency office and explain my desire to help and about my sensory issues. I was horrified when the man I spoke to told me coldly that they didn't need my help. I almost burst out crying with embarrassment and turned to leave, then I spotted another man in the room. He had red hair and a beard and looked kind and friendly. I tried to lip-read when he turned and spoke to the first man. "What the hell did you say that for Jim? Everyone is welcome in this office, and we appreciate everyone's help". He turned to me and smiled. "I'm Robin Cook. Glad you've come to join us. When you're on the biscuit run remember I eat Turnocks Caramel Wafers". He laughed.

Robin Cook MP later became British Foreign Secretary. He always spoke clearly and directly to me and, included me. He became my hero for his goodness, honesty, and fairness. I loved it when he brought his sons to my house and introduced me to them and had a cup of tea. The man who'd made me feel unwelcome was called Jim Devine. He became an MP after Robin's death and was later jailed for corruption.

Robin Cook transformed my life in several ways. He made me feel valued and appreciated. He taught me about politics, and he encouraged me to do things, he didn't look at me as deafblind, he saw the person. I became a campaigner and crusader. Thanks to him I made a brief appearance on News at Ten. Nine o'clock News and a political program. I secured a massive number of signatures to prevent the local construction of a massive waste incinerator.  

Everything changes. Life is simply a collection of phases - Frustrating times. Heartbreaking times. Loving romantic times. Times when everything is a struggle. Times of grief and heartache. Times of excitement. Nothing stays the same... I learned that the hard way...

   

Reflections

There was nothing complicated about my father. His parentless childhood and unhappy life in the foster home could have made him bitter, but they didn't. A truly handsome man with a personality and presence that drew people in meant he was loved and respected everywhere he went. He was also an adventurer. His time in the Royal Navy made him restless, we were always on the move. He'd start up a business, grow bored and off we'd go to try our luck elsewhere. It was a never-ending pattern.

The one positive thing was that we would always return home for a while. 'Home' was a large house in Surrey with a small orchard and outdoor swimming pool, we had some well-known celebrity neighbours Sir Harry Secombe lived next door.  Eric Sykes, Roy Castle, Tony Hancock, and others lived close by. I loved Surrey, especially in summer. My father was a member of the Gander Green Cricket Club as was Harry and a variety of other celebs. At the interval, Harry usually took a bucket around the spectators collecting money for charity. I loved when he'd take my hand so I could accompany him. He was an incredibly kind generous man.

Being in the UK for Christmas was always special. To travel across the Globe from scorching countries such as Africa, Australia etc. Then arrive at Heathrow Airport to find snow drifts and freezing temperatures was magical. 

 I was 8 years old. It was Christmas Eve and unbeknown to me, it was my parents' turn to host the traditional Christmas Eve Party. Anyone who saw my parents in their heyday assumed they were celebrities. They had taste, style carriage and amazing, good looks. Mum didn't relate to women, but Dad related well with everyone. They were the story of Richard Burton-Elizabeth Taylor without alcohol. Burton and Taylor married twice. My parents divorced and remarried three times!  Though not celebrities themselves, they often caught the attention of magazines and papers and were asked to model expensive brand-name clothing. They happily obliged. 
 

My bedroom was at the rear of the house out of earshot of the noisy party. I loved my bedroom. with its large sash window and pink walls. The window was too high for me to see anything other than the sky. My bed was close to the window.  As usual my father tucked me into bed and kissed me goodnight. I lay still looking up to the window smiling to myself and imagining the wonderful surprises Father Christmas would bring it didn't take long to drift off to sleep. 

I woke with a start. The full moon shone brightly through a gap in the curtains, and I smiled to myself. I turned away from the light and saw her. She was kneeling beside my bed smiling at me. A real-life fairy. I rubbed my eyes I thought I was dreaming. She had long silky curled blonde hair with a shiny tiara on her head. I thought I was dreaming. The fairy was wearing a long pale blue dress with puffed shoulders. I gasped when I saw her wings, large soft, fluffy white feathers stretched out across her back and shoulders. She leaned close I gasped again, she had bright blue eyes, shiny pink lips and smelled of roses and other flowers I couldn't name. She put a finger to her lips "Shh close your eyes and go to sleep beautiful girl. When you wake all your dreams will have come true". She kissed my forehead, and I closed my eyes. I still recall the sense of warmth and happiness I felt that evening. She was right. I had a wonderful, wonderful Christmas.

A couple of years later we returned to the UK to attend a wedding. I was invited to be a Flower Girl even though I'd never met the bride-to-be. Mum took me to collect my beautiful white lacy dress with hoop petticoats and a beautiful silver tiara. When I finally met the bride-to-be, she gave me a huge cuddle. I caught a whiff of her perfume. It smelled the same as the one my beautiful blue fairy had worn.    

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