Juliet England: Why, as a deaf person, the Cummings debacle makes me feel cheated

Sad, helpless news junkie that I am, I left my local public gardens and golden sunshine on Bank Holiday Monday to catch up on that Downing Street rose garden press conference.

It was more surreal than watching Alice in Wonderland. Especially as I watched prime ministerial adviser Dominic Cummings describe his ‘complex’ situation, and ‘exceptional’ circumstances – when neither adjective seemed remotely to apply to him.

The total lack of regret, the refusal to offer any hint of apology, were jaw-dropping to behold.

Yes, he was ill with a small child and a sick wife. But so were many people, all of whom had to stay put and follow the government’s instructions.

The facts of this case have been so heavily reported as to barely warrant repeating.

Cummings left London to drive hundreds of miles to Durham to isolate with his family at a time when lockdown rules were at their strictest. In Cumming’s position, perception and being seen to do the right thing really matter.

He then took that notorious trip to Barnard Castle on his wife’s birthday (Easter Sunday), a full 30 miles away, again with his young son in tow, apparently to ‘test his eyesight’ ahead of drive back to London. As one social media wag pointed out, that’s a bit like necking a few pints and then getting in the car to see if you’re too hammered to be behind the wheel.

Leaving that ridiculous business about testing his eyes aside, it seems pretty clear that really he just fancied a nice day out in County Durham. Well, quite. Who wouldn’t?

I’ve thought long and hard about this case in recent days, tried to see it from all angles, and of course some aspects of the reporting have been false or just unfair (Daily Star Cummings cut-out-and-keep mask, anyone?).

If I lived in his street, I wouldn’t be hectoring the guy with a placard. The news reporters knocking at his parents’ gate in Durham did not represent an especially edifying sight, nor did the journalists’ cross-examination about his small son’s toilet breaks.

And it may well be that he genuinely acted in what he felt was his child’s best interests, and that he had no alternative.

The trouble with that argument, of course, is the sheer number of other parents who were in exactly the same situation but who did not pack up their cars and drive to the other end of the country.

Cards on the table, I’m a fully paid up remainer and couldn’t care less who knows it (call me a remoaner if you like), and not a natural Tory voter. And, of course, it was Cummings’ brilliant strategising for Vote Leave that played such as key part in the 2016 referendum result, and in last December’s landslide election win for the Conservatives.

I know as well that it doesn’t help anyone that Cummings himself comes across as unlikeable.

Yet there are many reasons why, as someone with a hearing loss, I do not believe he should remain in post. Indeed, I cannot see why he’s still there, given that others in public life (scientist Neil Ferguson and Scotland’s chief medical officer Catherine Calderwood) both resigned when found to be flouting lockdown rules.

For me, it’s been a long haul since mid-March. I’ve had two, proper face-to-face, planned conversations since then. Zoom doesn’t work unless people type most of what they’re saying (I don’t sign), phone certainly doesn’t work, subtitling doesn’t always convey news accurately.

I worry about what I would do if I became ill, about how everything seems to be more or less phone-dependent, from 111 to the new track-and-trace scheme to even my surgery suggesting I phoned them – to order more hearing aid batteries.

In truth, given my not-yet-ancient age and lack of underlying health conditions, I don’t feel more likely to catch the coronavirus than anyone else, not least because I’ve been sticking to the rules and staying at home as much as possible. (I’ll put my thoroughly washed hands up to a couple of visits to Tesco Extra for arguably non-essential goods, although clearly that berry Magnum last Sunday was absolutely vital, but that’s about it.)

So I don’t feel my story is particularly woeful. But I have not seen family members and had just those two brief, socially distanced meetings with two friends, since the middle of March. That’s because I believe the lockdown is necessary, and wouldn’t expect anyone to break it on my account.

I have friends who are far worse off – one who has had a kidney transplant and can’t leave home, one with a rare lung condition who can’t set foot outside her door. We’ve all heard of the sadnesses and sacrifices of others, unable to be with those closest to them in their final moments, or say a proper goodbye at a funeral.

It may be a cliché that Cummings has undermined the public health message, and created a ‘one rule for them, another for us’ situation. But, like many clichés, I genuinely think this one rings true.

Cummings doesn’t face any of the difficulties those of us who can’t hear do, yet clearly felt he could take a road trip toilet break all over the rules we’ve been working so hard to stick to.

In the past at work, at least partly due to my hearing loss, I’ve experienced bullying. I left, the bullies stayed and I think were promoted. It felt then, as it does now, that the bullies and thugs always win.