Friday Flash - He's Odd

Jeff Peterson across the road is as deaf as a post. He misses listening to his classical LPs but I bet he doesn't miss the wife's nagging. Then there's that dumb kid years ago at school, Margie Fields. No, not dumb, mute. Really bright lass but quiet as a mouse. Our Louise's little lad lost an arm to septicaemia and Keith Simpson goes to the hospital so often I'm surprised he doesn't just move in - something about dialysis, if memory serves.



They're just the most obvious ones I can think of. Bad things happen, but people get by, they cope. They learn how to make the most of it and they just get on with things. No, the worst part is the bloody doctors, always hanging around like uninvited ghouls, always inventing new names for old problems, as if giving something initials makes it something else. Half the time I think the acronyms are just so they can win at Scrabble.



I can't see. I accept this. The world out there has been nothing but a combination of sounds, smells and textures since 1984. I'm fine with that - you would be too if you saw the decorating decisions my wife makes. But the doctors?



They tell me I'm not blind. I just have Ocular Dysfunctional Disorder.