It's definitely worse

It seems I've had this problem for at least fourteen years but it's definitely worse now. Back in 2008 I wrote this:

I had a hearing test this morning.

I was fed-up of not being able to understand what my children say. I was also having to increase the volume on the television. I wanted a test to prove it was them not me.

I was told the test would take about one hour and turned up expecting a very high-tech digital-age test. The first thing the man did was hold a tuning fork to my forehead. Then he went out in the corridor and made sounds.

Finally I had to put on some headphones and hold up my finger each time I heard a noise.

After this extensive test, I am happy to say that my hearing is fine. So I can continue to grumble at my children - sons - for muttering. So that's all right.

As I say, it's definitely worse now. I think I may have to stop leading bible studies because I can't hear what anyone says. I'd like to put the blame squarely on St. Mary's, the large Anglican church where we meet, because our space is bigger and high, high, high. So all the voices disappear into the ether. Strangely though, I'm the only one it seems to have affected. No-one else keeps saying, "Pardon? What? Can you say that again?" And there are only so many times you can say it, so I spent a lot of time just nodding and smiling and hoping it was appropriate.

I'm also over-due an eye test so I've just booked both consecutively. Not until June unfortunately. And apparently this ear care check is only going to take fifteen minutes as opposed to the sixty of my first. It's either rubbish or so high-tech an earologist can wire me up to an electrical impulse thingy and instantly tell how good my hearing is. (I know earologist isn't a word but it should be.)

We shall see. And hear hopefully.

* * * * * *

When I think of something I want to write about on here I jot down a note for myself to remember when I get a chance. The problem then of course is a) trying to decipher my note, and b) working out what it means.

My current list, on the back of an envelope, goes like this: Tick Tock, losing English, songs with meaning, MD Card, and apologising for fuzz.

I'll begin at the end as I've only just written that. Is it me? Is it because I'm British that I feel I have to apologise for everything? Fore example, the woman on the phone today when I was making my appointments had to ask me to repeat my details several times - maybe she needs a hearing test - on the grounds that the line was fuzzy. I said, "Oh sorry." Because obviously I'm to blame for a bad connection. 

Next, MD card. When I returned from holidays I received a belated Mother's Day card form Daughter, made by GrandDaughter1.

The rest I'll leave for later - when I might have remembered what they're about.