Liam O’Dell: The Christmas dinner table dilemma that deaf people face

Christmas Dinner can strike fear into the hearts of many deaf people for a whole host of reasons.

If it’s not the dread over when the conversation will inevitably turn to Brexit, or when your family will start sharing embarrassing anecdotes of what you were like as a child, then it’s the question of where on earth you should decide to sit.

At first, sitting in the middle of the table sounds like the best option. There, all of the sound surrounds you and you’re able to see everyone at the table, too.

All is well until you realise that you are now on condiment duty. You’re now playing Pass The Parsnips – it’s like Pass the Parcel except there’s no reward at the end of it.

Scratch that, what about the end of the table? It would have to be at an angle which you can best hear too, of course. Try sitting here, and you’re a prime target for your household pet – if you have one.

As they repeatedly claw at your clothes for a slice of meat, you realise that you now have an excuse to not wear a festive jumper at Christmas dinner in the future, and let the dog scratch at it some more.

You try to return to the conversation, resting your head on the palm of your hand in case concentration fatigue kicks in. But then come the elbows.

Your sister, ever the enthusiastic eater, cuts into a pigs in blanket like it’s a game of rugby. Your elbow is knocked aside, and  you’ve missed the conversation.

People are looking at you now. You’re hoping they didn’t see you panic as you were knocked off balance, but they did. Your little brother’s laughing opposite you and saying something in-between eating two Yorkshire Puddings. You decide not to care – lipreading him speaking whilst eating is like watching a faulty washing machine.

You’re only left with one other option, which is also a no-go. You don’t ever sit at the head of the table. Sit there and that’s it, you’re the head honcho about to be asked a lot of questions by everybody – like an episode of Mastermind, but instead on a spare wooden chair that your Mum’s had to fork out of the attic.

It’s impossible to lipread or understand anyone.

Oh, forget it, you say, I’ll eat in the living room.

Photo by Ollie Cole.

Liam is a mildly deaf freelance journalist and blogger from Bedfordshire. He wears bilateral hearing aids and makes the occasional video about deaf awareness on his YouTube channel. He can also be found talking about disability, politics, theatre, books and music on his Twitter, or on his blog, The Life of a Thinker.