The Blind Truth

In the six months that I have been working form home, I have been meaning to secure my passwords, which are now abundant. I’m with an on line system. I can just about remember the password to get onto the site, but t’s so long ago since anyone explained how to use the system, that I will probably get locked out. Getting locked out was once a job for a socially awkward man who arrived in a van that...

I’ve been cursing the turn of the month and the annual arrival of bees up the nose which are a fair indication that the start of a winter cold is upon me. Those bees really went for it. By day two they had made their way into ears and throat and had started to become a bit of a nuisance. No matter how much I coughed they weren’t going anywhere. They’d settled in to ensure a generous level of infec...

The Flatmate (that was), is now up to her neck in Italian Politics and any chit chat has to be by appointment and booked ahead. We have a provisional date for a week on Sunday. In the meantime, she has celebrated living half a century. Obviously, I was not invited, because of “IT” and the collapse of air travel. I sent her a phone charger and a packet of pants for her Birthday. These are things th...

The Grand was having his morning nap. The Son was working away in another room and not to be disturbed. The DiL got out her laptop and was busy. I decided to take myself off for a walk. I thought I’d go for a mooch, have a look at the house I lived in when I was a student. It was not how I remember it. I’d take that walk across the common that I used to do. It had changed. Not even the old laundre...

The Grand can now walk independently. I have been surprised that he can out manoeuvre those of us who have more than half a century of experience on him, and should be able to anticipate his every move. Apparently I can’t. It’s all coming back to me now. When the Son began his life as a self propelled person I had the same trouble. I could never anticipate the direction he might dart off in if som...

The Sister has a wonderful garden. It’s awash with colour and raspberries. It’s full of interesting quirks: Planting, statues, places to sit, bee hives and fruiting trees. We enjoy a stroll. She tells me what she’s been up to in the garden and I throw out the odd comment. “That’s nice. I like that,” I say encouragingly. “That’s a lump of concrete I dug up.” I’m not deterred from commenting on her...

We’re living through Goldilocks weather. It’s been too hot to sleep. Then it was too wet for my tomatoes to ripen, too cloudy for the runners to flower. The plums at the top of the garden are now looking glistening pink, but even the satisfaction of an endless supply of plumb jam has limits. I’m restless. All of this against a backdrop of staying at home. The daily constitutional is getting to be...

The Toad is right up there with the viper when it comes to expressions of morality in literature. He’s the method by which feminine goodness is put to the test and the punishment for mean or shrewish behaviour. What then, is the meaning of this? I like to sit in the garden when it’s dark. The cloak of darkness brings privacy and I enjoy that moment when the sun fades and a feeling of stillness beg...

The topiary at the top of my garden is definitely due a hair cut. I’ve resisted doing it myself because a lack of three dimensional vision has lead me to the conclusion that I have no skills in this department. Months of covid lockdown have lead me to the same conclusion about my own hair. The only thing that I can say about cutting my own hair is that it would be shorter. Some relief has come abo...

If you attend one of the great masked balls of Venice, its said that you will not recognise your own reflection in the waters of the Grand Canal. With anonymity assured, anything goes. So the question is, dare you enter the world of masquerade and let go of your inhibitions from behind the secrecy of a sophisticated and stylish face covering? The rules of social distancing forbid such cavorting. A...

I have had a glimpse of Hell. I have swum the waters of the Styx and crawled up the bank on the far side. I did it all in the hunt for the single stem garden plant support. When I say I swam, it might be nearer the truth to say that I sweated my way up the hill in a waterproof in more humidity than I anticipated. Having spent half an hour in this endeavour, I arrived at the gates of hell to be met...

What Covid 19 has given me is sleep. I’m touching wood. I don’t want to speak too soon. I’ve got my fingers crossed, which is not an easy thing to do when typing. I can’t remember when I slept like this. I’m hoping that the long deep sleeps of the past few weeks are a permanent legacy of this killer cough. The daily routines that have taken over my world don’t mean that I am stuck in a rut or feel...

After weeks of being at home, I’ve got used to dressing down. I’m not so feral as to sit at my computer in my best blouse with only my underwear and a pair of Disney themed slippers, but I’m beginning to hanker after the idea of dressing up.   The draw of an opportunity for a big night out in the company of three chickens and five friends, under a gazebo, was the thrill of the week.  What should y...

The BF has taken up jigsaw puzzles. She’s currently doing a one thousand piecer of the 99 most beautiful places she won’t be going to any time soon. My neighbours have got cupboards full of jigsaw puzzles. They have even got up to the moment puzzles that their grown up children have given them for their Birthdays, so they wont get bored during lockdown. There has been a lot of WhatsApp action abou...

This is the Blind Truth with Anna Tylor. Anna is the chair of RNIB and in her personal blog she takes a wry look at living a colourful life with limited sight. This week's episode is titled:  'Blot On The Landscape'.

This is the Blind Truth with Anna Tylor. Anna is the chair of RNIB and in her personal blog she takes a wry look at living a colourful life with limited sight. This week's episode is titled: 'Etiquette For A New Age'.

This is the Blind Truth with Anna Tylor. Anna is the chair of RNIB and in her personal blog she takes a wry look at living a colourful life with limited sight. This week's episode is titled: 'Lockdown, Lies and Revelations'. 

No one’s going to be leaning over the pub bar any time soon and ordering a pint of Corona. Time, it seems, has been called on all our social lives for the foreseeable future. The help lines have stopped answering. Even Wayne in Mumbai, who regularly calls, offering to fix my infected computer for a small fee and access to my bank account, has stopped ringing.  I hope he’s not coughing. Social cont...

I have been to the moon and back, plumbed in bathrooms and more besides, and all in my sleep. I normally undertake these activities in an orderly fashion in the seconds before I wake up. These days, my adventures have become more numerous because I am no longer a spring chicken and prone to waking up a lot, which involves dreaming a lot. Just before the light came up and I woke up this morning, I...

The oven packed up. Why does this always happen when you have chopped up enough vegetables to sustain an anaerobic digester for a week? That’s what happened. At the point of realisation, I switched the top oven on, but that didn’t work either. Vegetables cooked in the microwave. I said to the assembled hungry hordes known as Angela, “I’ll just dish up over the bin.” The Flatmate had no trouble get...

A good part of my life is spent on matters to do with #Fund Raising. It’s a tough old game so I’m sympathetic to anyone faced with the challenge and especially if it’s something I’d like to support. I confess I’m not a fan of the fund raising event. I know that people like to feel they have got something for their donation but it often seems to me, that like the village fete, it’s a fate worse tha...

Children’s literature is the best. When The Son was growing up, I loved reading to him. I do a pretty passable #Eeyore. Some have even commended me on my #Piglet. That’s another story involving prunes and Bombay mix, the ultimate delicacy. One of the joys of reading to very small children is the large print that books for small children tend to come with. They allow plenty of scope for “ooing” and...

“I guess that not being able to see makes dating a whole lot easier,” a one-time only dinner date suggested. “I mean. It wouldn’t matter to you what people look like. You could be with a really ugly ****** and you wouldn’t care.”  I know beauty when I see it even if it’s not all about looks. I might just work my way into a conversation with an attractive man if one gets close enough to judge. True...

What could be nicer than to live it up with a couple of friends, eat canapés (not part of my five a day), drink an immodest glass of wine, then work it all off with a stroll home along the river?   “I’ll be back in time for Newsnight,” I texted. Instructing Wanda (that’s setting a google map route) should never be attempted at a stride. A cursory glance for oncoming obstacles is still a skill I th...

Storm Brendon, council Christmas tree disposal policy and a long walk home don’t appear to have much in common. Put them all together and you can live through your own Spaghetti western. It’s not that the good citizens of Clapham are having a hairy panic seeing Clint Eastwood emerge through the tumbleweed blowing down the High Street. The good, the bad and the ugly of South London have all run hom...