Ian Hamilton is a nice bloke and comes up with some good stuff. this is a funny but sadly true read and just had to be printed on the blog lest it be taken from the above linked pages in the future. I really tried to select a section to print but just couldn't omit anything from this comedy romp.
Am I invisible? Well, some days it appears that I am. There is a strange phenomenon going on which either has to be exploited or investigated. Now I'm not a scientist, but there is an extraordinary correlation between how poor someone's sight is and how much they can be seen by the general public. It's weird. It's like the poorer your sight becomes, the harder it is for anyone to see you. Very slowly you fade away to nothing. There is, perhaps, at best, just a faint outline of a person moving through the crowd. The guide dog can be seen clearly, but the person is invisible.
Once, I was sitting in the executive departure lounge at Glasgow Airport (now, I'm not saying that to show off but I was put in the elite waiting room by one of the airport staff who thought it would be helpful - actually, I think she was just getting me out of the way) and for some time I was alone, till one other traveller appeared.
The lounge was quiet, with only the faint crunching sound of a blind man and his dog gorging themselves on free biscuits. (I wonder who supplied them?) The other passenger then made a call on his mobile. "Hi, I'm at Glasgow Airport. Yes, I'm completely alone."
I screamed, "No! no! I'm here. Ya-hoo! Yahoo!", while bouncing up and down on my seat.
He continued. "Yes, yes, I can speak freely," he said in a booming voice.
"No! No! You can't speak freely, I'm here - look, see," I said while figuratively slapping him repeatedly around the face.
He then proceeded to go into great detail about what football players he would be buying and selling for his club. "I'm thinking of buying Jo Bloggs for around 200 thousand - um, yes, as long as he gives up the drugs and alcohol. Obviously, it would be good if his foot would grow back, then he'll be the player for us. Selling - well, who the hell would buy one of ours?" It was a Scottish Premier League chairman.
He plumped himself down next to me and confessed to his life
My instinct was to run around the room naked, falling over chairs and tap dancing on the tables while whistling Dixie. Obviously, I didn't do any of these. I sat quietly taking mental notes. Well, it is my job. He was so near I could have reached out and touched him with my left hand. What was he thinking? He was sitting only feet from a journalist. But because I was blind he just couldn't see me. Some people just have to be protected from themselves. No, I'm not going to embarrass him by giving his name.
So, here's my idea. Stick with me on this one, it's good. How about the blind spy? According to a charity for the blind, four out of five blind people of working age are unemployed. A shocking statistic, I know, but perhaps this could be a good way to get many of them back to work by using our so-called natural skills. Being invisible and, of course, our extraordinary hearing. Although I'm not so sure about my hearing. Sometimes I become very deaf, particularly at home, for some strange reason. "Ian, you couldn't do the dishes?" Answer: "Sorry, what was that?" Another yell comes from the kitchen. "Ian, the bin needs emptying." Answer: "Sorry, I didn't catch that."
We've got all the technology now. Talking mobile phones with camera, infra-red object detector, digital recorder, colour detectors and blind-friendly global positioning systems. We've got so much kit that when we plug it in at night to do the charging the street lights dim.
A couple of years ago MI5 was going through a recruitment campaign looking for more agents. It should have started looking around the blind colleges and training centres - not Oxford and Cambridge. Apart from being invisible, for some reason, those of the public who have the special powers that can see us tend to be the mad, bad, criminally insane and deranged. These types always feel the need to off-load all their darkest secrets, as if somehow a blind person knowing them just doesn't count.
Many years ago, I was approached by a man in a bar. He plumped himself down uninvited and started to confess to me about his life of crime. Armed robbery, receiving stolen goods, almost everything apart from murder. If only I'd had a modern phone with a camera, I could have secretly taken his photo, recorded his confession with my miniature digital recorder and scanned the colour of his clothes using my colour detector. Then I could have called the police, giving my GPS co-ordinates, and maybe scooped myself a large reward. The alternative is to try to escape. It's not easy trying to squeeze yourself and a labrador out of the window in a disabled toilet, particularly when you don't know where you're landing.
Even when a blind person can be seen, normal rules of security don't apply. Before the recent tightening of security at airports, being blind didn't appear to constitute any threat. I could walk through customs with 10 kilos of crack cocaine under one arm, a box marked "bomb" under the other one, and dragging a case with "swag" printed across it. But as long as I had a white stick or a guide dog, I had some kind of blind diplomatic immunity. If only David Blunkett were still Home Secretary he could have implemented my army of blind spies.
Ian Hamilton reports on disability issues for BBC Scotland.
Labels: disability, technology
