“How very dare you, Sir!”

IMG_4329

To have been erroneously issued one Senior Citizen’s Concession rail ticket at the tender age of 48 is unfortunate; to have been issued two in the one week by completely different Scotrail ticket staff is positively alarming. I’d like to think that both ticket men belonged in the British College of Optometrists comedy annals of Severe Visual Inadequacy, along with the man who ate his hearing aids thinking they were cashew nuts, but it rather looks like I could be needing a bigger makeover than I previously thought.

Bloody beige hearing aids ageing me prematurely, that’s what I say…

Fashion, body taboo style…

Fashion special mastheadDebora Dax Beer Belly Sweater

Above: Debora Dax Beer Belly Sweater and Cellulite Trousers image via Dezeen

Ever since unveiling my Age of Beige hearing aid stickers back in 2011, I’ve looked forward to the day when the fashion world would catch on to my radical Beige is the new Black concept, which shamelessly promotes NHS beige as the colour for those in the know.  When I saw the garment above, I thought that day had finally arrived, but it turns out that it’s actually part of a concept range based on female body image taboos.

Nevertheless, I like to think of the illustration above as the perfect fashion embodiment of how someone under the age of 50 feels on the walk back home from the hospital after a first NHS hearing aid fitting, and no one will persuade me otherwise.

Of course, a garment like this can’t be found on the high street, but for anyone out there who wants to join me at the beige neoprene cutting edge of NHS orthotic styling, there are a few more readily obtainable suggestions below…

ear gear beige   composite

Beige spray

How to end up having your hearing aids surgically removed

nutty hearing aid nibble

If you wear hearing aids and glasses, don’t leave your hearing aids near a bowl of nuts or you’re just asking for trouble, according to this recent article in the Telegraph. Apparently, the short sighted man in the story ate his hearing aids thinking they were cashews, and had to have emergency surgery to remove them from his stomach.

Presumably, two cashew nuts were removed from his ear canals at the same time…

When Santa could do with hearing aids…

creda cavalier cooker

 

Over Christmas, I was wondering when I first became aware of my propensity for mis-hearing things, when I suddenly remembered an early childhood incident. On that occasion, it was not my own hearing which was at fault, but that of the elderly Santa, upon whose knee I was excitedly perched, in a grotto in the middle of a Glasgow department store.

“So, little girl, what’s your name?” said Santa, before being seized by a sudden phlegmatic bout of coughing.

“Moira!” I replied with great enthusiasm. With three days to go until Christmas, I needed him to remember me.

“Eh?” said Santa, leaning a bit closer. His beard smelt of nylon and cigarettes.

After several repeats of my name, I was getting impatient, but eventually Santa seemed to have got the message.

“So, Moya, what would you like me to bring you for Christmas?”

I decided it was best not to antagonise Santa by correcting him on the name front.

“I’d like a scooter please Santa!”

“A cooker?” said Santa, a little incredulously. “That’s a very unusua…”

“No, not a cooker, a scooter! A red one!” I interrupted loudly.

I was getting slightly anxious now. I had to make Santa understand what I was asking for, since the last thing I wanted to wake up to on Christmas morning was a cooker. That special treat is reserved for when little girls are much older.

“A what?” said Santa, looking round to my mother for help. Unfortunately she had been abducted by the nearby shoe department and was busy eyeing up a purchase with four inch purple platform soles. Poor old Santa was on his own with my high pitched voice and confusing consonants. After several unsuccessful repeats, I was still in danger of getting a cooker, but this time a red one with wheels and a bell.

Finally, Santa looked at his watch, changed the subject and reached into his sack. I thought I was going to absolutely die with the suspense and did my best to suppress a little shiver of excitement. What was going to emerge from that sack? After another short bout of coughing brought on by the exertion, Santa handed me a very small parcel.

My heart sank. I was devastated. There was no way there was a scooter inside THAT.

“Thank you Santa”, I said politely, hoping that Santa’s elves might have overheard the earlier part of our discussion, and safely deliver me a red scooter with a bell on Christmas morning.

A Cautionary Christmas Tale

Ice swan

Hearing Aid Avenger pictured on top of his ladder seconds before disaster strikes

Moments after this stunning photograph was taken at the Govanhill Ice Carving Championships yesterday, a terrible double misfortune ended Hearing Aid Avenger’s chance of winning Gold in the Medical Devices and Prosthetics category (a triple misfortune, if you count the fact that he was the only entrant).

Just as he was putting the finishing touches to his daring and technically challenging re-interpretation of the traditional ice swan, an infuriating scenario occurred which will be very familiar to all hearing aid users; both Left and Right batteries ran out unexpectedly within minutes of each other, with no new ones to hand.

Keen not to interrupt his creative flow by going in search of batteries, he carried on smoothing a tiny imperfection on the swan’s neck, an imperfection which, ironically, not even the most eagle-eyed judge would have spotted. Unfortunately, with his batteries gone, he heard neither the final time up signal, nor the ominous creak which signalled that he was now dangerously overworking the ice.

He was immediately disqualified for carrying on after everyone else had finished, but worse was to come. An impatient official tapped him on the shoulder from behind to alert him to his disqualification, and Hearing Aid Avenger got such a fright that he accidentally snapped the weakened neck of his beautiful swan and sent it crashing to the ground. All that remained on the display pedestal was an ugly frozen blob, which local youths later used to smash the window of a local off licence shop in order to get at the Buckfast display.

So, dear readers, remember to pack those spare batteries over the holiday period and have a very merry Christmas!

Hearing Aids with Attitude

hearing aid tattoos

I can’t seem to find time to write anything these days, so here is a Photoshop version of my latest ongoing hearing aid pimping exercise instead. I can’t think of anything better than a nice tattoo to set off a pair of flesh coloured NHS hearing instruments, and I’m hoping they might intimidate those irritating people in shop queues who helpfully insist on poking you on the shoulder from behind, if you don’t move at the speed of Usain Bolt once a till becomes available.

It would appear that, for some people, the sight of hearing aids in a queue can bring out the same primitive instinct as the sight of a caravan ahead on the road; they become impatient to overtake even when the caravan is travelling at the same speed as all the other vehicles…

A Case of Mistaken Identity

Secret Agent or deafie

Illustration with apologies to Dick Bruna

 

It occurred to me last week, after a series of frustrating occurrences at work, that my rapidly evolving HOH behaviour patterns have the capacity to be misunderstood. Just in case anyone else out there is wondering whether their deaf colleague might be a secret agent, I have prepared a handy checklist of similarities in order to clear up any potential misunderstandings. If the person sitting next to you does any of these, there may be a simple explanation…

Always first in and last to leave

They might be on an intelligence gathering mission for MI5, or just catching up with all their extra prep and trying to get some head space because their brain is fried after a long day of listening.

Their eyes always seem to be following you

They might be waiting to inject you with a poison dart hidden in their umbrella, or just trying to read your lips.

They keep fiddling with their ear

They’re either wired for surveillance, or it could just be that their hearing aids are making their ears itchy.

Jumps whenever someone sneaks up behind them

They might be up to no good with the Freedom of Information filing cabinet, or just not heard you coming.

Waits till there is no-one about before making phone calls

They might be reporting back to the Kremlin, or just unable to hear on the phone in background noise.

Hastily abandons dialling the phone whenever someone enters the room

They might be making a clandestine call to Julian Assange, or just abandoning all hope of getting some peace to hear on the phone.

Takes an unnatural interest in room layouts and furniture arrangements

They might be planting surveillance devices, or just trying to make sure that they can locate themselves in a position where they can hear during a meeting.

Ignores you when you call their name in the street

They may be operating under a false identity, or just not have heard you speaking from behind.

Sneaks off on their own during lunch breaks at conferences

They might be uploading some files to the Pentagon from a blacked-out vehicle in the car park, or just hoping not to have to nod and smile embarrassingly over a plate of cold chicken drumsticks for an hour.

Pretends they haven’t seen you at the train station

They might not want their cover to be blown in an area that’s crawling with police, or they might be trying to avoid the embarrassment of having a one-sided conversation on the hoof, in mind blowing amounts of background noise.

Goes to the toilet on staff night outs and doesn’t come back

They’re either on the next flight to Acapulco with a suitcase full of gold bars, or they can’t face another three hours of fake nodding and smiling.

Always makes an excuse not to go to the pub

Could be that they don’t want to risk the potential of a Rohypnol tablet being dropped in their dry Martini, or perhaps they can’t face three hours of fake nodding and smiling.

Looks blank when you ask them, over a cup of tea in the canteen, what they’re doing at the weekend.

Either they don’t want you to know that they’ll be hacking Google’s servers from the basement of their rented accommodation, or they just didn’t hear what you said for all the bloody racket in the canteen.

Looks blank when you ask them if they’ve seen that confidential file you accidentally mislaid.

Either they’ve already flogged it to the FBI and have six million dollars winging their way into their Swiss bank account, or they just didn’t hear you asking.

 

The Cookie Bite Chronicles is unable to take responsibility for any confusion caused by the complex activities of secret agents who also happen to wear hearing aids.


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