What? Speak Up!

Yes it's official: His Lordship is married to someone who wears, not only glasses, but a hearing aid as well. Not just any old hearing aid, mind you, but a state of the art NHS digital one, so small and unobtrusive as to be almost invisible- well maybe not so small and unobtrusive as one bought privately for £1000 +, but beggars can't be choosers, and this one is just fine.

So in an instant, his Lordship's fantasy of a sunkissed, long limbed, pulchritudinous, size 2 supermodel with flowing locks, has been dealt another blow, but probably not the last one. A stick or zimmer will be the last straw.

Ageing is not for the faint hearted or for those who value beauty above all else.
Beauty, at the end of the day, is in the eye of the beholder, but he or she may need to wear rose tinted spectacles to get the benefit, and any alternative assets of grey matter are diminishing in tune with the eyesight and the hearing.

Anyway this contraption of mine is only required when in a group of people, scattered around a room, who appear to whisper, forcing me to try and lip read.
I shan't wear it in the house; testing it last night, I almost shot through the roof when His Lordship sneezed. I can hear him just as much as I want to without any help in that direction.

Talking about ageing, I'm alarmed to notice leaves falling off the trees outside my window: not a cascade, but a light flutter or two falling on the grass. It seems like an early precursor of autumn while we've technically just begun summer.

I'm off with my new contraption this morning for coffee in my next door neighbour's flat and to meet another senior resident
I have a sneaky feeling that I will feel quite at home with my aids in their company: but I so hopeI'm wrong. I'll let you know.