Into The Unknown

hearing aid avenger's long walk


As the chattering students dragged their chairs noisily to the front for the final project briefing in our temporary decant site, nobody noticed the tiny red-caped superhero enter the room. He looked a bit tired. Just like me.

“I’ll be glad when you move to that shiny new building next month and I don’t have to walk along this never ending corridor any more,” said Hearing Aid Avenger as he surreptitiously passed me a fresh size 13 battery to replace the one which had inconveniently died a few minutes earlier. After two and a half years and one hundred and twenty battery changes in our temporary site, I too was looking forward to the Design School of the Institute of Artistic Endeavour moving to its spectacular new home.

“Can’t wait”, I said, lifting one half of a pair of cymbals out the way of the projector stand, and using a large piece of wood as a shovel to clear a laptop space in the alarming mound of studio detritus on a table.

“Although…” I hesitated, “there might be a few challenges ahead in the new place. Must say, from an acoustic point of view, I like my teaching spaces to have doors on, and four walls, but there’s no doubt the open plan studio for the entire department is absolutely stunning. It looks just like a gallery space, with its beautiful polished concrete floor and pristine white shuttered concrete walls, its double height ceilings and sleek glazing to let the light in. It’s all about bringing people together and sharing. Group discussions and 1-1s will take on a whole new energising dynamic with 150 people talking in the background instead of just 50.”

I thought I saw Hearing Aid Avenger wince.

I continued, “If it just had an architect-designed hearing aid battery storage space and a pop-up sound proof booth in the studio, it would be perfect. The office is almost as far away from the studio in the new building as it is in this one, and if I suddenly need to hear someone talking, or do a lightning battery change, things could get tricky…”

“Let me see what I can do”, winked Hearing Aid Avenger.

2 Responses to “Into The Unknown”

  1. 1 Rose Rodent (@RoseRodent) January 26, 2014 at 7:10 pm

    Interesting to do the maths there and find that you get about the same battery life that I do. I have no clue why the NHS continues to dish out batteries in packets of 6, despite by wearing hearing aids for the past 26 years and having a deteriorating condition. It’s interesting to note that back in the analogue days when a pack of batteries (admittedly the giant blue 675 model) would last the best part of 6 months, my allocation was 12 batteries per exchange. In the digital age, where my average battery life is 10 days at best, less if I fall asleep with lugholes still on power (or have to beam something into my earholes to attempt to drown out a snoring husband), my allocation at each exchange is STILL 12 batteries. Given the number of times they lose my book in either inward or outward journey, and the restricting battery exchange times suitable only for people who are retired and insomniac both, and who have no need of parking on site, this serves only to provide work for Royal Mail in carrying hearing aid batteries across the Scottish countryside every few weeks, and perhaps extra revenue for Boots and Amazon when you find you have run out. Duracell size 13 batteries have a life of around 72 hours. Not impressed!

    • 2 moiradancer February 1, 2014 at 9:23 am

      Haha Rose, yes the strict allocation of the pack of 12 is indeed frustrating. I am lucky enough to be blessed by living just along the road from the hospital hearing aid clinic, but still can’t seem to find the time to do a battery detour en route to work until it’s too late. I managed to claim a battery baker’s dozen last Wednesday though, when the battery beeps went off timeously in my right ear just as I was being hooked up to the computer at Clinic O. A fresh battery from the audiologist’s drawer was popped in, leaving my new pack of 12 intact.

      Ah, the small things that make one happy these days…

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