Tragic figure though she is, I'm no Liz Jones apologist. If she lies on a prickly bed, it's one she made.
However, the isolation her deafness imposes on her in the Celebrity Big Brother house strikes a chord. Like Jones, I'm deaf enough for group situations to be tricky and often I find myself "not engaging, just standing there", as Lee Ryan said of Jones on last night's show.
Ryan was sympathetic when handcuff-partner Casey Batchelor explained to him that Jones is deaf, but there you have it – the instant assumption that, when someone doesn't participate in a conversation, they're aloof, rude, stupid or just plain boring. It's a situation I'm familiar with.
Like Jones, I've tried to get used to the hearing aids I was given a decade ago, but I can't stand the tinny, mechanical sound they produce, so I don't wear them. Instead, I get by with a bit of lip-reading, a lot of "What?" and "Eh?" and a tendency to hazard a guess at what people have said and offer some banality in return.
I managed four years working in a bar in this way, holding entire conversations without having a clue what was being said. A quick scan of facial expression, a gauging of voice tone and a generic answer, designed to cover most bases, lets me scrape by. I use this method at parties and in clubs, restaurants and any other noisy group situation. Here's the template. You: "Mumble, mumble, something unintelligible," delivered at an excited pitch.
Me: "Really? Brilliant!" said with a big smile.
You: "Blah blah, blah, blah," fleshing out details of your story.
Me: "Ah, OK, right," nodding intently as if hanging on every word.
You: "But then, murmur, something or other," change of expression, serious face.
Me: "Oh, no," quickly wiping the smile from my face, and shaking my head sadly.
Unlike some people with hearing impairments, I'm lucky enough to be able to manage conversations most of the time. In a one-to-one, face-to-face setup, I'm fine. It's group situations that are another matter.
Offices are a nightmare: quickfire banter simply doesn't work if everyone has to repeat themselves so I drift out of the conversation. Sometimes I find myself laughing along even though I haven't heard the joke.
If I'm tired or hung over, my hearing gets worse and I give up, retreating into a slightly trippy world where people's mouths are moving but only a burbling sound comes out. Phone conversations can be farcical, and I dread having to speak to anyone behind a screen at a ticket counter. Watching anything live on TV, with the inevitable, infuriatingly out-of-sync subtitles, is pointless.
There are thousands of people coping with deafness far worse than mine, but it's a disability people remain largely unaware of, invisible as it is. I try to make a point of telling people I'm deaf, particularly in work situations, but when, a few hours later, I sit blank-faced as a funny conversation flies around the office, I doubt if anyone remembers why.
Some people respond brilliantly to deafness. I have friends who as good as translate for me when we're in noisy places. Others are unsympathetic, refusing to believe you're not just being difficult.
In turn, I've developed a dislike of people with quiet voices and can't help thinking they are deliberately making life hard for me.
Several members of my family are deaf and it's depressingly revealing to observe how much harder it's been for my brother as a deaf man. People expect men to have actual answers rather than just the pathetic smile and nod I can get away with. He's had people get downright angry with him and, working on building sites, has needed thick skin to deal with the way people react to his deafness.
Deafness can be annoying and not only for the person whose hearing is compromised. I get exasperated with my very deaf mum, especially if we're in public and I don't want to yell the details of my love life across a crowded train. And I love her dearly; how much harder to stay patient with the complete stranger who needs you to repeat your address 10 times down the phone. But people must be patient.
Maybe it's unfortunate to use Jones as an example of this, as she has other issues. But still, I wonder what part her deafness has played in it all. Any sympathy needs to translate into genuine changes in behaviour, however. And I, for one, just want to join in the conversation.
