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Friday, 14 July 2017

DIARY OF THE PLUCKER BY FIONA CUMMINGS


The clock has struck midnight. I am actually writing from bed. I have not stopped all night and had a busy day. I wrote a poem for my blog page about how blind people fall in love, it sounds comical to those of us who are blind, but I get asked this question all the time from sighted people. 

 

You know me, poetry takes me minutes to write so I wasn’t too long at my lap top enjoying myself, as I do enjoy myself chatting to you all.

 

I spent time writing to a few of my Bloggets and then the tax people again. What a pain in the butt they are being. The Tax people, not my Bloggets. Seriously, dealing with total incompetent people it’s driving me mad. The left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing.

 

Well at least now I have the phone number of a manager and it’s her direct number. But it took loads of phone calls and me losing the plot in the end to get that.

 

I got thinking tonight, as I stood at the kitchen sink as I do more often than I would like to, I never take for granted that my Husband and Son walk through the door after work each day. Especially as so many emergency services go flying by the house. When I hear the front door being opened and the Wagging one’s nails tapping along the wooden floor to run to the door, because of course, everyone who comes to the door comes only to see her. I thank God.

 

Tonight’s dinner was a success thankfully, though the meatloaf was a bit of a disaster. Let’s just say, it kind of collapsed.

 

Tomorrow, or later I am off to our city to find our new hairdressers. Now you may remember, it’s the missing hairdresser. The one who used to do my hair, but left to go and work elsewhere, and leaving me looking like a yeti. I have not had a haircut since December. Hahaha. I have been looking for my hairdresser for months. Now, I think I have found him, but he is in a part of town I can’t even begin to tell you where. All I know so far, is you get off the bus and turn right…. How many roads? Turns, when and where? How many bins will there be in our way or bollards or worse, people, parked cars vans on path ways, and steps, oh, the dreaded S, word. I hate them.

 

So many doors, which one to go through, plant pots, which direction next? Well, I’m up for the challenge, but is Waggatail? Oh God help us. The Wagging one will love the fact she is out, and love working, she has not got a problem with the harness. But the location? Oh, she will flip I am sure. And worse, do her business in town. Let’s see. If you are a local, and you see the sun go down, you will know it’s me bending down picking doggy doodle up.

 

I can’t take my white cane as no way I can do that without knowing the route. I hope the next blog I am writing telling you that my Waggatail has done her Mummy proud.

 

We have down loaded Blind Square. The ap for navigation, but it only tells you when you are there not so much how to get there until you have done the route then you drop a pin or something, and next time it will help more. And no ap, tells you about parked vehicles or market stalls or moreover, long wires stretched across a pavement attaching to a guitar. Well I haven’t managed to disconnect a man from plucking yet, but there is always a first time. 

 

I’m oddly excited for the challenge in eight hours. Is that weird? I hope I will be writing you a blog, and not from a hospital hahaha. Sometimes I do wonder, if I am mad, what are we thinking of, we can’t see for goodness sake. What are we doing leaving the safety of our house? I would love to know what my normal fearful face is doing whilst walking? I expect I look absolutely terrified. We have to listen to every single thing we pass remember every move and item we bump into even if it is just gently. To miss it on the way back. I must say the past few times, I haven’t took any Grannies out, normally I walk into one and lift one from her feet, catching her with my other arm the one not gripping for life onto my white cane. I always say sorry, as I gently put her back on her flats, but oddly, she doesn’t answer.  One thinks she is perhaps in a little bit of shock, that she has been Fifi’d.

 

Last night we had a great night out. We went to a pub quiz.  I love them it’s been years since I have been to a pub quiz. And we didn’t come last. We got 38 out of 50. I think I answered four Hub about the same and collectively about 20 and our two friends the rest. I got the picture quiz answer, now, that’s a first. My friend described and I got it right, and Hub got a word question. How visual are we? Smile.

 

Well as it is heading towards half twelve my Sons Girlfriend is still here of course. Can you believe this, kids have no shame, she turns up in her pyjama’s? I mean, she isn’t a nine-year-old child, going for a PJ party, talk about ready honey? It’s awful. Shameful. They just have no shame at all.

 

On that note, I shall dash and hope you all have a lovely peaceful weekend. X

 

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