In hospital again by Trevor Plumbly

Important disclaimer Any resemblance in the following comments to anyone living, dead, or en route in either direction, is purely a matter for their own estimation. Many are called… Yep I’m back! As a result of a nasty fall, various bits of me have decided to freeze up, requiring the attention of a neurologist. Thus here I am flat on my arse, being poked, pulled and prodded by Doc One, a brusquely efficient, but otherwise charming woman, who vaguely reminded me of an absent-minded Miss Jean Brodie. After whacking me a few… Read More

A good look by Trevor Plumbly

Looking back Historically, the attitude towards ‘blindies’ in the 19th Century left a lot to be desired. We managed the odd mention in literature as interesting background characters, excluded from the central plot, but in life were largely regarded as charity cases, except, of course, for those shielded by wealth. Academically, then, as now, there seemed to be no shortage of scientific papers on causes and effects, but most lapse into a terminology that render them practically useless as a point of reference to those of us experiencing sight loss on a… Read More

Moss gathering by Trevor Plumbly

By the book I think I’ve mentioned the importance books have played in my life. After my schooling was severely truncated, they were the cheapest form of entertainment and education available. In the late 1950s, I was living in a bedsit in North London, 12 bob a week, share bathroom and toilet with penny-in-the-meter electricity. Kilburn in the late 50s was far from welcoming, but it did have a public library. Bedsit etiquette was pretty much ‘mind your own business’, so in the absence of social contact, I wandered up and down… Read More

The confession of a cunning old fart by Trevor Plumbly

Culpa! Mea? This aging biz isn’t turning out to be the doddle I thought it would be; there’s lots of stuff to adjust to. The nights of six pints of lager and a curry have been replaced by a glass of wine, rabbit food and easy access to the toilets. It does, however, have some compensations: the old standby ‘he’s getting on a bit’ allows me to avoid inconvenient disruptions to my routine by resigned martyrdom rather than open defiance and as a result I’ve mastered a strained patient grimace along with… Read More

The dictates of fashion by Susan Grimsdell

One of the best things about being old is that I no longer care about being fashionable and fitting in with the way my friends dress.   As a teenager it was a different story.  Whatever was “in” is what I wanted.  In my day it was miniskirts, sack dresses, teased hair, crinolines, and like everyone else, I was right in there with it all. Flesh on show Looking back on those days it all seems a bit innocent compared to what’s happening now.  We worried about showing bra straps, girls now worry… Read More