Unceasing Echoes

On a video chat last night with friends… Someone playing a wonderful piece of music. My phone had fallen out of position and my camera slipped.   Me: “That was lovely, thanks. Did you write that piece?”   Him: “I can’t see you”   Me: “Will you only talk to me if you can see me?”  

Here we are nearly eight weeks into the lockdown and I wanted to comment on how it’s going, how I’m feeling now after nearly two months and the extent to which the struggles in relation to blindness that I highlighted at the start have shifted.   Qualifiers and provisos: I am fortunate to live in a house with a garden and to have my Son’s company through the lockdown .  I live on a street with a strong connected and supportive community , I have friendly/helpful  local shops where I’m known, a partner and a long-established network of friends… And crucially,  I also have a permanent full-time job with a secure salary   I have the (mainstream and specific accessible) technology that I need to work and keep connected with friends and family,  I’ve been able to adapt, develop new skills and learn new software both for communication and recording music.   I’ve tried to avoid wording this to sound terribly smug, that is the last thing ...

(repost to provide contxt for new visitors) I suspect that there is an expectation that a new blogger, particularly one writing about personal issues, should introduce themselves at the start of writing a new blog. I confess that I’m reluctant to do too much of that here at this stage as I hope that who I am )whatever that is) will emerge in ways that I couldn’t predict. More importantly though, I’m reluctant to position, restrict  or limit myself to you by providing too many auto-biographical shortcuts. I think it is probably particularly nuanced for disabled people as strangers’ desire to ‘know’ more about us than the relationship deserves, is so entrenched in our experience. I’m nervous of saying too much about my blindness, how much I might be able to see, how it limits me, how long I’ve been blind for, how I live etc. I’ll see how I go with it … suffice it to say that I am fascinated by the role that blindness has pla...

I understand and appreciate how important sight is, that pictures in themselves convey if not a thousand words, certainly 687. I understand too that in these locked-down  times of communicating remotely for the purposes of work and social connection, it is important for many (most?) sighted people to be able to see the person they are speaking to. Video calls are therefore the default rather than voice-only ones.   While I can see that something is happening on the screen, I can’t see what it is, who is speaking, what they look like, what they’re wearing or their surroundings. Similarly, I can’t see enough to properly line up my own phone/iPad camera to frame myself. However, I continue to use video on all these calls and meetings as I know that it is expected and makes for a better sense of connection for most people.   The downside is that I find it exhausting and incredibly exposing. It’s not just that people can see me and I can’t see the...

We’ve had to remain in self-isolation  for the last two weeks and can emerge from it tomorrow.   Other than not being able to leave the house, I’m not isolated in any real sense. I have company, I work full-time, I’m well connected with friends and into social networks, I’ve got plenty of time to make music and I’m having a lot of contact with people which I’m enjoying very much. In practical terms, we’ve had plenty of food as my street has excellent systems for sharing shopping trips, I’m very lucky to have a job that continues through lockdown and to live in an uncramped  house with a garden. Oh yes, and I am not ill.   While I’m adapting to the lockdown and working hard to develop my own routines as a means of taking charge and owning my response to it, I am constantly reminded that a restricted lifestyle doesn’t suit me at all. That sounds obvious, but I know a few people who have a very different relati...

As I can’t see enough detail to be able to scan the shelves and isles or read the labels and prices in shops, food shopping on my own generally means using familiar shops where I at least know the layout. I rely on a mixture of picking things up from the shelves and using a small (powerful) magnifier to read the labels, and  asking for help to locate specific  items if I can’t find them. Generally though getting around myself by using my small amount of sight to identify areas and products by their colour and shape, checking them against my memory of what the products should look like close-up has worked well for me all my life.    While this is laborious and not always easy, it does enable me to shop independently, spontaneously and fairly privately… and while I’m good at moaning here about how difficult things are, I enjoy food shopping as it is an integral part of my  love of cooking and eating.   Now though, with COVID-19, I find...

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.