Juliet England: My deaf diary – part 5

Friday 06 December

To my friend G’s piano teacher’s house for an evening of carol-singing and mulled wine. This is terror-inducing on numerous fronts. I’ve never been sure whether my complete inability to sing a single note in tune is to do with my hearing loss, but I do know my tone-deafness barred me from not one but two school choirs.

The evening kicks off with an unseemly squabble over whose bottle of wine we should present (we have unwittingly brought one each.) Please, I think, please don’t make me fight with you in a dark car where I can’t lipread.

In the end, though, it passes off jollily enough, and I try and join in, even if I spend most of the singing time scanning the room for smirks. (Results: inconclusive.)

By the end, I’m even requesting The First Noel.

“Take it away, Juliet,” G orders, with enough sarcasm that I’d be seriously considering a slap if we weren’t in polite company.

Saturday 07 December 2019

I left my walking group some years ago, but gatecrash the tail end of their Christmas lunch in a neighbouring town to catch up with a few old mates over the coffee. All very festive. And when a staff member tries to turn down the lights, I demand that they stay up so that I can lipread.

It feels thrilling diva-ish and demanding in such a large and packed room, but I am delighted. It’s the first time I’ve done anything like this, and it leaves me wanting to fist-bump and high-five everyone.

Thursday 12 December 2019

Election day. When it comes, the result will be gut-wrenching, as final as a death. But, while there is still hope, I spend part of the evening at a local school that’s a polling station for the day. I am wary of doorstep canvassing, especially in the dark, and need to avoid the phone for obvious reasons. But here, in broad artificial light, when all I have to do is collect polling card numbers, it’s easy enough.

The only problem comes when I need to take down an address if someone has forgotten to bring their polling card. The information comes in half-snatches, a number caught but no street name, or I’ll know it’s ‘something’ road but nothing else. And people are in a hurry, and only supplying their details as a favour. Luckily, someone from The Other Lot is there and in this at least we help each other out.

Friday 13 December 2019

A chance to catch up with a friend and former colleague who is passing through. I choose a big buffet eatery as our meeting place on the grounds of expense, but it is a misjudgement of epic proportions. Its cavernous, booming interior is packed with rowdy festive revellers, the sounds echoing and bouncing around.

Amanda says something I miss, then puts her hands each side of her head to make ears, which just adds to the confusion. Finally, finally, I catch Paris. But what is she saying about the French capital? I hazard a few desperate guesses, all of which fall wide of the mark.

“Euro Disney. We’re going to Euro Disney next year,” she says. The ‘ears’ were evidently Mickey Mouse.

“Oh, right,” I say, blowing out air from my cheeks. “You should have said.”

A nice bout of particularly violent vomiting (I am gluten intolerant and must have inadvertently eaten some at the buffet) rounds off a strained evening.

Saturday 14 December 2019

In my favourite (and indeed only) local gluten-free café, the young Saturday worker, who I know slightly from my gym, tells me excitedly she hopes to go to university in Durham. When I ask which college, I can’t hear so say something like ‘Jolly good’ and move on. The friend I’m with has to repeat it so many times before I understand ‘John Snow college’ that she genuinely can’t believe I’m not winding her up.

After lunch, a movie, another one I spend a sizeable chunk of fast asleep or catching about 10 words in a thousand. It is called Knives Out, and, infuriatingly, looks as though it might actually be quite good.

Monday 16 December 2019

Tune in to watch Sticks and Stones, an evening drama on ITV. It’s clearly bonkers, with a wildly implausible plot, but worth watching for the main character’s daughter, a deaf seven-year-old with whom he communicates in sign language.

As with Channel 4’s The Accident, hearing loss is presented as unremarkable, an ordinary part of life. The girl is being bullied at school, for her deafness, just as her father, who is hearing, is being tormented in his place of work. I know I shouldn’t be surprised when deaf characters are portrayed this way on TV. And, yet, it is still unusual enough that I always do.