This afternoon was another successful visit to Mr D, who loves music, and it wasn't long before we found we had something else in common. As we sat mulling over the past week or so, Mr D started to tell me about an appointment he'd had some time ago at the hospital near to the hearing aid department, and how quaint the cottage was that it used to be housed in. I mentioned that I had been to the new hut this week to have my hearing aid serviced, and he gave me a look of disbelief. Apparently he hadn't realised that I was deaf as well, and he was intrigued to see that underneath my long locks I was hiding my cros-aid. And then we were off on a long ramble about how difficult it is to hear in busy spaces and over background noise, but that sitting in a quiet space with a one to one conversation worked just fine. We had a little mini moan about people who think that because you have an aid your hearing should be just fine, and about the struggles we each had during covid with face masks and being unable to lip read. He was telling me that when he plays the violin he can't actually hear the top notes, and I laughed and said it was the same when I sing and it's just tough on anyone listening if I'm not in tune... And then we were back to talking about my recent singing day and all things music - he showed me the new CDs he's bought of violin concertos and we compared notes about different instruments we have played (or at least the ones that I have attempted to play). Then before I knew it, the clock was telling me that it was time for me to be on my way and for Mr D to get back to some of his translation work.