Craic On

I’ve been to Gateshead, where despite the chill winds, skirts are still high. Northern women are tough, resilient to the elements but not without a soft side. The receptionist at check-in asked me to verify my details on the bit of card they always hand you. I said that I’d be grateful if she could read it to me. She asked me if I needed my glasses. I said I didn’t as they wouldn’t help, but if she could read the card to me that would definitely do the trick. She leant over the counter and read my address to me in hushed tones, which was thoughtful given that the assembled throng was milling about at close quarters. Check in complete, she said, ” I hope you don’t mind me asking. Are you partially sighted or blind?” I explained that I can see but I’m registered blind. She said it was incredible because I was looking right at her. I said it was all in the training. “How sad,” she said and leant over the desk and squeezed my hand.” Never mind, we are here now and we’ll look after you.” Resisting the