One year post-activation today, and I managed to celebrate it in my own way. I DID IT MYYYYYY WA-AAAYYYYYYYY!

Captain Mainwaring, Dad's Army, © BBC

I worked at home this morning as it was pointless commuting to work and then dashing back again for the chiropodist to come to my house. [Spectacular verruca: side effect of going swimming.] Well, she was late, and after 35 minutes waiting I’d had enough. I picked up the phone and told her I wasn’t waiting any longer, as I had to return to work and there was only a certain window of time with the trains. Yes. I was sooo angry  – yeah, I know, held up by clients, traffic, yada yada yada yad – that it actually impelled me to pick up the phone and talk to a stranger for the first time ever. Not exactly a nice, easy conversation for starters, but one where I was wound up, strung out and absolutely spitting fury over my wasted time – I had to overcome all this to get the conversation out.

Then I dashed off to get my train to work my core hours for the afternoon. On the train, feet out, Sudoku in progress – oh bumpootle and bug**eration: I realised I’d dashed off without collecting spare batteries. Crump. I did a quick mental calculation: about 3.30pm, I told myself sternly, prepare ye to lapse into silence. Pretty much spot-on, but I guess it was a fairly peaceful afternoon in some ways. I’ve come a long way though, and while I’m happy to potter without my processor on of a morning, that’s my choice. To be shoved willy-nilly back into the silence isn’t, but it isn’t panic-inducing, more me talking to myself like Capt. Mainwaring to Pike: “Stupid girl.”

And now this evening Top of the Pops is back, from 1976. And, do you know, I can hear “Save All Your Kisses for Me” far better than I ever did in 1976. And I only remember it because it was so popular and all I could get at the time was lipreading them with the hand-waving action and thought I was doing well: bye-bye baby, bye-bye . . .

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