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To quote John Miles, ‘Music is my first love…’. I grew up with ‘The Light Programme’ on the
wireless, my mother’s records, usually stacked to drop in turn on what was
probably a Dansette and the sound of the Juke Box filtering up from the bar
below. When I’m at home the radio is always on until the television takes over
for the tea time news. Later, if I have a job to do in the kitchen before bed,
I’ll put a CD on, something gentle and soothing. I can’t imagine a life without music. I enjoy
the spoken word, poetry, live theater and birdsong. I love listening to the
baby-babble chatter from my grandchildren. Soon they will be speaking our
language and this magical time will have passed, though some words in my family
which began with my children will always remain – bagsketti and amnials are two
which are still in use. Say them out loud if it helps. I’m very thankful for my
sense of hearing and mostly I feel empathy towards those with hearing loss. My
main bugbears are those who pretend they’ve heard when they haven’t and those
who need a hearing aid but refuse to wear one for vanity reasons.
I was starting to get annoyed with someone at work when
every question I asked was met with ‘Eh?’ as he cupped a hand round his ear and
leaned further over my counter. For the benefit of his privacy and the
protection of my throat I gave up shouting and started writing it down instead.
He wasn’t impressed but we got the job done and I managed to resist asking if
he normally used a hearing aid.
On another occasion at work I was trying my best to help
someone profoundly deaf and dumb with an answer to a query on a letter he had
received. This involved me telephoning an unrelated NHS admin department. The
person on the other end insisted she had to speak to the person concerned, not
a third party. I reminded her that this person is deaf and dumb, can’t possibly
use a telephone, doesn’t have email and would like me to act on his behalf. My request was met with a total refusal to
co-operate and I’m still waiting for someone to come back to me with a suitable
method of communication.
There are times when the sound of silence, or near silence
is preferable. A wind down after a busy, challenging day is better with a hot
cup of tea and the rhythmic creak of my old rocking chair with no other noise
to spoil the moment.
That’s enough grumbling. I should be more patient with those who can’t
hear so well. After all, I have sight problems and no sense of smell, so help
me out if you think I’ve left the gas on.
This is my poem, Imagine if You’d Never Heard.
Imagine if you’d never heard
The crashing of a stormy sea
Pounding the rocks so forcefully
A flock of seagulls swooping round
Calling and screaming constantly.
Imagine if you'd never heard
A newborn baby’s lusty cry
A nursing mother’s lullaby
Singing the little one to sleep
Then gentle kiss and happy sigh.
Imagine if you’d never heard
Music filling a concert hall
Ready to host the Christmas Ball
Waltzing and Foxtrot and
Two-Step,
Roll up and join in, one and all.
Imagine if you’d never heard
The beauty of the spoken word
In the rhythm of poetry.
A silence that can’t be
disturbed.
PMW 2016
Thanks for reading, Pam x
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