Unceasing Echoes

Taking my daily walk around the cemetery after working at home this afternoon, I noticed myself apologising to at least three people who walked too close to me.   It probably comes from a long learned reaction against conveying the attitude that I have no responsibility for the space that I use or take up as a blind person, but nonetheless a general bad habit of mine that I must stop.

Walking about: My eyes are so tired with the continual negotiation of inter-personal positioning on the pavements/roads on my daily walks/shopping trips.   As you can imagine, I was naturally pleased but surprised to realise that, while not widely reported in the media, it turns out that the young (20s/30s) confident middle-classes have built up their immunity to COVID-19 and no longer need to worry about social distancing. They are again able to confidently walk along pavements and pathways in large groups in close proximity – unless of course they live in HMOs or large extended households(?)   Work: I’m speeding through work in that way that I sometimes have in a dream where I’m travelling much faster than is comfortable (perhaps running down a hill or in a boat) and, while I never crash, it is both nerve-racking and exhilarating. In some ways, having to rely more on audio conversation puts me at an advantage, but the need for speedy transition from one vid...

I am ‘working remotely’ from home and have had to pay great attention to how I best accomplish this. ‘remote working’ is the practice of working at home, usually on a laptop  but using various technologies to (virtually and actually) speak to colleagues, take part in (meetings, one-to-one conversations and to be able to access all the electronic resources that are normally available in the workplace. I use screen reader software to access my PC, tablet and phone that use keyboard commands or screen gestures (in the case of the phone/tablet) to navigate the screen where controls and text are read out with an electronic voice.   I work in the NHS and naturally, due to the current circumstances, the sheer pace of the work is incredibly fast, but exhilarating too. I am aware that I have to work differently from sighted colleagues just to keep up with the new landscape of communication technology. Working across different organisations, I find myself using a...

I had to go to my local Post Office to post a parcel yesterday morning. I  had been forewarned that they had a two person limit on customers allowed in the shop and that the queuing, while maintaining  distance, tended to be erratic and without any rules. On my arrival, I saw a guy pacing back and forth talking (presumably on his phone), however, each time he passed the (closed) Post Office door, he would stop and speak in a different way, before resuming his pacing (and phone call) – this confused me. I asked him twice if he was in the queue and, on the second time, he seemed to say that he was. Eventually, he walked off with only a comment seemingly made to the door but without entering the Post Office – perhaps he wasn’t queueing at all(?).   I was left having to re-interpret my assumptions about the situation.   I decided to try to open the door. It was locked, but it became apparent that there was some kind of gap in the glass which I realised ...

I’m finding it hard to manage walking while maintaining a distance of two metres from a companion and harder still to negotiate distance on the pavement with passers bye. This is magnified in shops where seeing where others are going, anticipating their movements and adjusting your own in response to them seems to be the way of operating. I have very little sight and while I know how to use it well, it is a struggle to have so many new things to manage while walking around and my eyes tire quickly.   I can’t see enough to make eye contact and often find that people don’t realise that I am speaking to them. At  the new two metre distance, it is much harder still to manage communications, for example  in negotiating my place in a queue outside shops. Similarly, to respect a shop’s rule of limiting the number of customers, requires the ability to see  and assess who is already in and where they are inside, grasp the rules of entry and queuing.

Until lockdown began in the UK on Monday evening, I hadn’t thought much about the aspects of COVID-19 isolation that  would particularly impact on me as a blind person. Now, the reality of it touches me  in many ways that are different from sighted people.   I was going to make a joke that blind people are at a disadvantage because we can’t see the virus, but actually, while of course nobody can, what sighted people see, is how others operate (or don’t) around distancing, taking precautions, what they touch, what they don’t, how they manage all those actions, communications and negotiations. I am having to quickly work out new ways of doing things for myself with information and helpful descriptions from my partner.    

In a Thai restaurant with two blind friends.   The main course arrives and the staff all congregate, close in around our table to watch us eat.  

In a taxi… Driver: “There’s a blind chap who I pick up, you must know him. I take him to work (and home again), out to the pub, everything, he goes all over the place. Great guy, he’s more of a friend I know him so well. Just getting divorced poor guy (between you and me, she sounds like a right one!), he’s trying to keep seeing his kids though (although SHE’s kicking up a fuss, making all kinds of accusations of course). Beautiful dog, although a bit mischievous I’ll tell you. How long have you been ‘visually impaired’ for? You must know him.”  

In my local off-licence, I get my card out to pay.   “You can’t pay by card. We don’t take cards”   I have no choice but to leave.   On my way out I hear the next person in the queue ask:   Can I pay by card?”   “yes of course mate”  

In my local off-licence, I get my card out to pay.   “You can’t pay by card. We don’t take cards”   I have no choice but to leave.   On my way out I hear the next person in the queue ask:   Can I pay by card?”   “yes of course mate”  

Visiting our new curry house.   The waiter comes to the table and tells my friend that there is a ‘2 for 1’ offer on Cobra.   I asked my friend if it would be Ok to have a sip of one of his two pints.  

My father recently spent the last few weeks of his life in hospital. At such a difficult time, He was fortunate to be in a small hospital that took his dignity seriously. I was particularly struck by  how few staff, across all different roles and levels of seniority used the sadly well-established patronising and infantilising, sing-song  voice when they spoke to him and other patients. This was in contrast to the acute hospital where he had first received treatment where most staff used it to a greater or lesser extent.   From the unfamiliar position of onlooker (rather than recipient) I found myself most interested in the dynamic created in small groups of staff working together, where most spoke to their patients naturally, respectfully, adult to adult; but just one or two of them would use ‘that voice’.   That voice, where every syllable is delivered just slightly too slowly through what always sounds like a painfully forced smile, over enunciated, an...

In large shops, I wander all over, trying to find someone to ask for help finding what I’m looking for. Nobody seems to be around. All I can do is join the (often lengthy) queue.   When I get to the till, I explain that I need help finding something, they ring for a colleague. Someone arrives to help me find what I’m looking for.   On finding the item, what happens next can go any of four ways:   1.They take me back to the till, and explain to the cashier and next customer that I have already queued and ask if it is OK if they get me in to pay for my item. 2.They take me to a spare till and sort out my payment there themselves. 3.On finding the item for me, they wander off leaving me to join the queue again. 4.On finding the item, I ask if they could help me pay without having to queue again. They refuse, telling me either that everyone has to queue, or that they don’t work on the tills. .    

In Tesco with one of their staff to help me with my shop. We come to the wines and beers isle. I confirm that I do want to buy some drinks. The shop assistant said ( faux conspiratorially, and  in a way that I’ve only heard used to disabled people, teenagers by their relatives and by staff to older people in care homes):   “oh, you like a drink do you?”   I must confess my surprise at not receiving a similar response on coming upon the toilet rolls isle.