Monday 30 May 2011

For Your Information: My Handbook on Dealing with a Blindie

Over the past couple of days, I have been on my travels a fair amount (resulting in a gammy foot and a further hole in my overdraft - damn you, Petticoat Lane!), and my experiences have prompted me to finally compile my handbook on how to deal with my lesser-visioned kind. I hope the following will be of use to you!



COPING WITH BLINDIES
A crash-into-and-fall-over course

ON THE STREET. When I am coming towards you, you should stand right in the middle of the pavement, blocking any kind of access to the road ahead. When I bump into you, your reaction should be to tut and give me a look suggesting I have just killed your offspring. Should I get too close to you on a pavement while I walk along, your reaction should be to maintain your normal walking position, and then do something resembling an Irish jig to avoid being hit with my cane. Street entertainment is a dying art, and there will be many around us who will appreciate the free show.
TIP: The absolute best place to stand and conduct public business with friends or relatives is just inside or outside of a shop doorway.
DIRECTIONS. The best way to give me directions to somewhere is to point and say "It's over there". I will instinctively know in which direction you are pointing and head that way. To make a real impression, when my desired location is rather close, you can always give me a look of disbelief because I can't see it.

ON PUBLIC TRANSPORT. When I board a particularly crowded tube, train or bus, you should look me up and down, shoot a confused look at my cane, and then bury your head in your Metro/Evening Standard/Kindle/latest bestseller that you carry with you in the hope it will make you look intellectual. If I gather enough courage to ask for a seat - this is usually after I have fallen over at least twice - you should either crane your neck even further into your reading material, or shoot me another of those firstborn-murderer looks. I can't get enough of them.
TIP: The signs on the tube for seats meant for the disabled and less able to stand are a little joke from TfL. You are, of course, the most important person on the train.
TIP 2: When you are sitting on the aisle seat of a two-seat on a bus and the window seat is empty, when I ask to sit on the empty seat, you need only shift your knees fractionally to the side in order for me to manoeuvre past you. There is no need for you to move to the other seat.
IN THE SUPERMARKET. When I am attempting to manoeuvre down an aisle of groceries, your immediate reaction should be to block the aisle with your trolley/basket/child, ideally while talking loudly on your mobile phone. This will cause me to fall over or bump into aforementioned trolley/basket/child, causing maximum inconvenience for all concerned.

IN A RESTAURANT. Particularly for a buffet, the best place to sit me is as far away from the buffet tables as possible. This will present me with a human obstacle course to work around, providing me with exercise opportunity, particularly when I have to balance a plate of food on the way back.

AT A TELEVISION/RADIO RECORDING. I will not need to see what's happening in front of me from a close distance and can happily be sat right at the back of an auditorium. This is especially true of radio recordings, because as the medium is audio, the participants will not make any facial expressions throughout the proceedings and I will not have missed anything. When I ask for assistance, you should ignore me or not pass the message on, so that when we go to be seated, I trip up over several people who rush in front of me. Having a bruised leg and limping for a week really keeps me on my toes! Audience members: by all means push past me when my assistance has been arranged. You have been queuing for longer, or you get a damp flange over one of the participants, and that of course gives you the God-given right to go first. It also gives you the right to make bitchy comments within my earshot about how you should go in first. I just love it!

CUSTOMER SERVICE. When serving me at a till, the best thing to do is carry out the transaction entirely silently. I do not need to know the final total to pay, as it's conveniently displayed on the tiny LED screens that face the fully-sighted customer. I will know instinctively how much my shopping totals, and magically give you the exact change. Moreover, when I say "Hello" and "Thank you" during our transaction, you should look around boredly or glance confusedly/piteously at my cane, depending on your mood.

YOUR CHILDREN. Children are such active little bundles of joy, aren't they, and are consequently always on the move. As a parent, it is your responsibility to make sure they get as much exercise as they can, and high streets, shopping centres and eateries are clearly the best place for this. Should I happen to walk into one of your offspring when they have run into my path, you should of course shout at me for getting in the way of your child and give me a look that suggests I'm worse than a paedophile.
TIP: The small fold-up scooter is very popular with children these days and, once again, shopping centres are the ideal place for them to be ridden. I'm at my best when my legs are bruised from having scooters ridden into them, so do keep that in mind.
MY AGE. It's a well-known fact that nobody under the age of fifty-five is disabled because they are "too young" to be, and considering I look rather young for my age, this will obviously be even more confusing to you. In most situations, looking me up and down before continuing your trajectory with an expression of "no, she can't be" will be sufficient. I will then trip over you because I'm too young to be disabled and am therefore just clumsy.

YOUR COMMENTS IN PUBLIC. I adore being the centre of attention due to my cane, and your helpful, witty and incisive comments are an utter joy. Ranging from the simple "What's she holding that stick for?" (deeply philosophical in its simplicity), to "Come away, she's blind!" (Partial sight is exactly like being totally blind, and is also highly contagious). My using visual communication aids, such as my phone (for texts), in public, should also not go without comment. A wonderful witticism I heard once was "She's not blind! She can see that phone better than I could!" Everyone who carries a cane has exactly the same eye conditions and level of sight, and their sight will never be as bad as yours was that day when it was foggy and you'd had too much to drink the night before.

QUESTIONS ABOUT MY EYESIGHT. Eye conditions mean you have exactly the same level of sight every single day. Therefore, I just love being able to tell you exactly how far I can see in mind-numbing detail. Please feel free to ask me how far I can see, as this gives me the opportunity to wax lyrical about the minutest details of my eye problems. I have never had to do this before, so your questioning will be original, refreshing and not at all deeply personal.



I will now get off my bleedin' soapbox for the evening and resume the Crochet Project of Doom. Pip-pip.

Saturday 28 May 2011

It's fun being a hooker.

Because no-one's made that joke before. I AM THE FIRST, I TELL YOU.
Have spent the past couple of weeks crocheting these little granny squares:


It's slowly taking over my life. Initially, it was meant as a way of using up the leftover bits of wool in my bits bag. But then, Ol' Bright Ideas here decided to start crocheting an afghan. Oops. I have now bought a further six balls of wool, with the possibility of having to get at least another two, in order to complete it (my obsessive-compulsive nature meant I decided to use eighteen colours). Still, I'm sure once it's finished, it'll look... an utter mess, as with most things I do. I'll keep you posted.

Friday 27 May 2011

Lemon, Lemon, Lemon

Currently watching the hugely underrated End Of Part One - Renwick and Marshall at their best, in my opinion. Wonderfully observed pastiches of then-current shows and a very talented cast, including Sue Holderness, Fred Harris and Denise Coffey. It's a crime that more people don't know about this show, due in part to its daft scheduling of Sunday teatime on LWT - what were they thinking? It's nothing short of a miracle that all the episodes still exist in some form, considering the lack of attention the show seemed to get and what little seems to be known about it today. I don't believe the show was ever repeated, and is now unlikely to be, considering the now outdated cultural references - although the show was made and aired a few years before I was born, I'm a bit of a telly nerd and know of frankly too much stuff that was on before my time, but I don't know how many teens out there will have heard of Nationwide or Weekend World. (That's not to say there are none, of course!) That said, there's a superb spoof of Tom Baker-era Doctor Who (when the monsters will still made with glue and bits of string - hurrah!) and, in the first series, the loose narrative involved parody of Coronation StreetCrossroads et al in main characters Norman and Vera Straightman. The show plays with the conventions of television in order to move along: backdrops are moved to view the set behind, characters are thrown into ludicrous situations with little explanation, and in-vision continuity of its time is spoofed to link sketches together.

I've yet to get hold of its radio predecessor The Burkiss Way, but that's definitely a future project. Radio programmes don't always make the transition to television entirely successfully, but considering the quality of the TV version, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about on that score!

It would seem a kind soul has shared the entire series on YouTube - check out Filmnet's uploads for seven hours'-worth of great comedy.

Since I've been on about this for weeks...

...it's finally time to get on and start blogging again. More will follow when I can think of something more coherent and/or interesting to say - don't go setting any timers or anything, though. The last time someone set a clock waiting for me to say something interesting, the timer blew up from overuse and the force of the inner clockwork shooting out killed three passers-by and a vicar from Streatham. Last time I get taken to court under the charge of "being pathologically dull", I can tell you.