Writing, disability and isolation

9 October

One of the totally pointless debates That I have heard over the years is the one as to which sense I would miss the most, deafness or sightless. It’s one of those silly things that crop up every so often that really do make me wonder about the stability of questioner. Last night it came to me again in Writing Mag from of a letter penned by a deaf writer. The writer explained how cut off she is, how hard it is doing research for her work, of her frustration at times when she is spoken to and can’t reply properly.

It took me back to 1996 and the OU summer School I did for An Arts Foundation Course. Our group had both a deaf man, Arthur and a recently blind man, David. Of the two it was Arthur I felt most sorry for. Even in the quite of a class room he had great difficult in hearing what was being said. When we got to the bar the noise level was so high he was really struggling with it. I was too so I could see his point.

In her conclusion then, the letter writer said that following the advice we all receive that we should write about what we know, she turned to her deafness and now writes about her deafness, in both fact and fiction. Well done her, I thought, is there something in there for me to write about? I am sure there is and I will follow it up later. But hang on a sec …

What about the ‘glass half full, half empty viewpoint? For me it all depends on whether you trying to fill or empty the damned glass. However, what about the usual why of asking that question and link to a disability in some way? Now there’s another novel way to follow up on later. Of course, there’s nothing new it, there’s never anything new in writing.

Robert Galbriath (JK Rowling) writes about his hero Cormoran Strike, an ex-RMP officer who lost part of his leg in action in Afghanistan. What makes it new the way Strike is drawn and how he gets on his new life as a private detective. For me Strike is the sort of guy who is always looking to keep his pint of Doombar full while he enjoys drinking it. That’s fine, but mine would be a pint of Pedigree, not Doombar, not that I drink any booze these days.

Going back to that summer school (now called residential schools – ye gods, more PC crap!), Arthur was certainly feeling isolated while David was the centre of attraction for the ladies in the group. That self-same isolation effects so many disabled people who are not able to join in with the normality life around them but continue to keep trying.

At that point Team GB return home with the largest number of medals from the Paralympics it has ever won, and thoughtless people, mainly younger people I hasten to add, point to their success and say that if they can do why can’t they do the same. They ignore that the person they are speaking to is a 50-year-old who lost both legs in a car smash when a drunk driver crossed the double white lines on a tight left hand bend. Not that they would know that, or even take the trouble to find out. All they are concerned about is their pointing out that the young Olympians can do it, why can’t you.

Today’s photo …

An example of disability isolation.

Today’s funny …

 Knock, Knock. Who's there?
Carrie.
Carrie who?
Carrie me home please, I'm very tired.