More Dreams Of A Building.

Over the last couple of posts I've been trying to put some flesh on the bones of the idea that we have a building, here are a few more thoughts to be going on with.

In the first of these posts I told you about the old Guide Dog centre in Midlesborough and what an influence that was on me because it was a "thin"place built by the love of so many that it exuded from the very wood and stone of the place. 

The building was built in a square round a central courtyard, it reminded me of a monastic cloister. Cloisters always feel special to me so this week I have spent a little time wondering why that might be and here's what I've come up with. 

Buildings with cloisters are safe spaces and what disabled people who are struggling need is that safe space. However cloistered buildings despite being safe do not cut themselves off from the outside, on the contrary, they bring the outside right in to the centre, the space in the middle of the cloister allows God in whilst still allowing those in the building to feel safe and looked after. 

So I'm dreaming of a modern accessible building on one level, built around a cloister, a safe space where his spirit can blow through the corridors. 

I'm praying for the opportunity to sit with an architect and to draw out the plan I am forming in my mind of how it would be and them to throw those plans out there and see if they attract enough interest to actually make it happen.

More later.

Blessings 
Dave & Jarvis

Dreaming the dream. 

Let me try and expand a little on my last post.

When Disability and Jesus began three years ago, it grew out of a feeling that there was no one out there doing what we do. Of course in the course of the last three years we have since met several individuals and small organisations doing if not the same thing then certainly work that compliments ours.

None of these organisations or individuals are well known throughout the church, nor are any of them well funded and resourced. All are run by dedicated volunteers who not only give their time but are also largely self funding.

It seems wrong to me that such an important ministry is so under resourced, that such dedicated, professional people should have their gifts taken for granted in such a way. The church spends fortunes on debating LGBT issues, it has spent a fortune in recent years on safeguarding of children but when it comes to the disabled it always feels the church wants something for nothing. 

So my dream is to have a building where these people can work from, to see them well funded and resourced and to get the church to take this work seriously. 

It would be a house of prayer, a place of learning and retreat, place for others to pilgrimage to and a place from where we can send out those who work in the mission field of disability.

Please join me in praying about this and if you feel God is giving you more insight in to what this might look like and how it could come about please, please get in touch.

Expect to hear more on this later.

Blessings
Dave & Jarvis.

I promised you all that after Lent I'd make the occasional post and true to my word here is the first of what I hope will be a fairly regular stream. 

What I'm going to attempt to share with you today are a bunch of ideas that have been haunting me, many of them for many years, which although they are beginning to take shape are far from being fully formed so please stay with me as I share them with you all and maybe you can help me make sense of them. 

For a large part of my adult life it has been my prayer that one day the church would value the ministry that disabled people can bring, not just the priestly role but right across the broader field of ministry. I myself have over 40yrs experience in music ministry, yet when Jarvis and I turn up to play at an event younger band members give us the head tilt of compassion and you can tell they are thinking this poor blind guy will be no good but we have to humour him for fear of causing offence. After the event they often seem genuinely in shock that a blind guy can also be a gifted musician.


Hold on to that for now and let's move on to the next group of random thoughts. 

I have always been someone who has put a lot of sore by what are known as "thin places". For me these had always been places with obvious spiritual connections such as Lindisfarne, Durham Cathedral, Minsteracers Monastery, Old Bewick church etc, these are all places where the only way I can describe it is that the prayers of generations have seeped in to the very stones of the place and reflect those prayers back out at the modern visitor. 

As you all know by now I spent years avoiding facing up to my blindness and avoiding becoming a guide dog owner. Imagine how shocked and surprised I was then back in 2001 when I walked in to Midlesborough Guide Dog Centre, a building I was expecting to be the most basic and functional of secular buildings only to be struck immediately by that hair on the back of the neck feeling. However until this point I had only ever associated such feelings with places of spiritual significance so to experience this feeling in a place with no obvious spiritual connections made no sense to me. 

Over time I learned that the building had been built, funded, maintained and staffed by volunteers. Then it began to make sense to me that what I was feeling was the love and commitment, the hopes, dreams and even prayers of all those involved had seeped in to the very fabric of the building and radiated back out on all those that entered. 

So how do these strands come together?

Well what I've been dreaming of is a building where we can demonstrate to the wider church what disabled people can bring to ministry, a building where those people struggling with feelings of anger and rage at their disability can come to a safe space where it will be seen as OK to work that anger out. Above all a building that feels thin, where the presence of God feels near. 

I feel strongly that this can not be done by simply asking for cash and throwing that cash at it. All the thin places I have listed were built out of love and labour that was given as gift, they were buildings built out of love and if my dream is ever to happen it must happen in the same way.

So you may think I'm a fool but there it is, my dream. I have many more detailed thoughts and ideas but for now let me simply pit that out there and see if it strikes a chord, ion it does please pray about it, talk to me about it, circulate the idea and let's see where God might take us, or not as the case may be, I simply put it out there as a way of trying to discern what He might be saying. 

So we've made it, this is the final blog of Lent although as I have promised I will carry on with the occasional post just not on a daily basis. 

Time to reflect and recap. In 1987 when I first got news of my sight loss my life fell apart, I lost my career, my home and came close to losing my marriage. Much of the next ten or so years are simply wiped from my memory as I lost myself to a world of anger, rage, drink, blame and simply running away, not just metaphorically but physically.

Why did I choose to link this blog which is largely about sight loss and guide dogs to the season of Lent? Well quite simply because the most unexpected part of guide dog ownership for me is what I have learned from Abbot & Jarvis about faith. 

I now believe that faith is about hurling yourself in to the unknown trusting in a God that loves you to keep you safe, Abbot and Jarvis taught me that. Faith is about journeying, pilgrimage, sharing the journey, another lesson learned from my boys. There is no plan, there is simply trust. God simply says to us "come" and when you ask him why he simply asks us to wait and see, to join the adventure, the not knowing where we are going should be part of the fun.

This journeying together has become central to the life of Disability and Jesus. We are learning that it is all about interdependence, again a lesson I first learned from my boys, the relationship I have had with both of them is based on that. I look after their welfare, their needs and they look after mine. I've said it before, my boys have been free thinking sentient beings who have worked for me out of love, a love that is deep, mutual and very much heartfelt. The kind of love that Jesus demands we have for one another.

Let me leave the final word to the Abbot of our little community as he offers you his blessing. 

May your bowl always be full

May your walks be long and happy

May there always be space in front of the fire May there always be someone to hold your paw In return you must lead gently, guide true. And remember... forward, always forward. 

As I sit here this Maundy Thursday evening keeping my own vigil I can't but help reflect the many nights back in the dark days where I had mot come to terms with my sight loss where Jesus was the only one between me and oblivion. 

It was at those times that he kept watch over me, he did not fall asleep.

He stood in that gap between me and my monsters, he did not let them overcome me,

Life now with Jarvis is very different, by rights I should not be here, how I got to such a safe place, a place of healing is a mystery to me, it's certainly not down to me. 

I'm here because of love, the love of a saviour that was there even when I was unaware of his presence.

A love from my wife which kept faith in me even when I lost faith in my self.

The love of Abbot and Jarvis who's care and attention have been constant and abiding. 

I'd like to thank all of you have followed this blog, the  fact that so many of you have followed it amazes me. Your comments have encouraged and supported me. 

Tomorrow will be the last daily post, I hope to make it a good one but after Lent I shall carry on, not on a daily basis but with the odd random post as inspiration strikes. 

In the meantime be assured that as you wait for his coming Jarvis and I are there with you, full of hope and anticipation for what he has in store for us as we journey this pilgrim road together. 

Peace to you all.

So through this blog I have tried hard to give you some insights in to the story of a stubborn old blind man. However there is absolutely nothing wrong with his hearing, but he will often simply refuse to listen. He doesn’t want to and you can’t make him. That man is me, David Lucas, a man who has gradually lost more and more of his sight. I’m the hero of my own story and instead of being tall, dark and mysterious, as I’d always intended, it turns out I’m rather short, fat and grumpy. Ah well!

This blog has not always shown me in a good light. Indeed, it will sometimes have shown me as a bad-tempered old fool, full of self pity and more than a little bitterness. You might ask why I would risk being seen in this way... Well, above all I wanted to give you an honest account of my experience of sight loss, warts and all. The world of the severely sight impaired (who used to be called ‘blind’) is strewn with obstacles, often placed there by sighted people who are simply unaware of the effect their actions can have on the life of a sight impaired person. You have heard me rant and rave and generally stamp my feet about these things and I know this may be difficult. At one point, I thought about removing all such material from the blog and had often gone as far as highlighting huge tracts of text, ready to delete them. Then I realised there would be very little left as I rather like ranting and in any case it would in no way represent my true feelings as they arose along this journey.

I eventually decided to give you the unedited version – including the tears and tantrums, the anger and joys – and let you form your own opinion. Sometimes what I have said may have surprised you. Sometimes it may have made you sad. Sometimes it may have shocked you. I suspect it will even caused offence to some. (I don’t really write off whole groups of people, as you might sometimes suspect... but I have made this mistake at various times in my journey.) Occasionally, my thoughts may have given you a laugh. And I earnestly hope and pray that just once or twice they might have just inspired you.

This blog won’t provide you with all the answers about sight loss because as yet I haven’t found them. What I have done, however, is reach an accommodation with my sight loss so that I’m no longer at war with it. I’m now able to wear the label of a blind man and not feel embarrassed or hurt by it. It has taken well over 40 years to get to this point... Even if I had known years ago what I know now, I cannot honestly say that I would have done things any differently.

Through this blog I want you to gain a sense of what life is like for sight impaired people in the UK in the early 21st century. People with sight impairments still face prejudice, abuse and ridicule on a daily basis, causing them to lead lives of segregation, isolation, fear and – all too often – loneliness. I long to see many things but more than anything I want to see a world where opportunity is open to sight impaired people on an equal basis. I’m sad to say, we still have a way to go.

If more sight impaired (and severely sight impaired) people are to achieve their full potential, then society needs to change. This will only come about when we’re able to face the issues honestly, all of us together, sighted and sight impaired. This little blog is simply one man’s attempt to create a debate about how that will be possible.

As a sight impaired person, life isn’t perfect. But it can be such fun. And it really can be fulfilling and worthwhile. Sight impairment is bearable and it is possible to lead a full life despite it. Believe me, I do and I thank God every day for brining Abbot and Jarvis in to my life. The journey so far has been a thrill and here we are close to starting a new adventure when Jarvis retires and a new guide dog comes along.

I've no way of knowing what lies ahead on the journey but I look forward to meeting some of you on the way. 

Like many disabled Christians I have often felt the very subtle, unspoken pressure to be cured of my disability.

In my time I have been accused of a lack of faith, of simply not praying hard enough, I have been told that there must be some unacknowledged area of sin in my life and that if only I would repent and confess then I would be cured.

I have to tell you I think this all comes from a lack of understanding of the difference between healing and cure. 

For the ten years or so after being diagnosed I simply ran away, the prospect of my onsetting disability was simply too much for me to contemplate so for years, I ran, I lied, I hid, I refused help, I refused to talk about it. All of this behaviour did untold damage to all my relationships, with my wife, my parents and family members and most of my friends. After tea years of this the truth is that I found myself late at night, standing in the middle of the Tyne Bridge, very seriously contemplating suicide. 

After standing there for well over an hour, I lost my nerve and walked home. 

The next day I began a long process of exploring what help and advice might be out there for someone losing their sight. I told not a soul about this process for fear I might not be able to go through with it, I wanted to know I could deal with it before telling anyone. 

After searching through local blind societies, charities like RNIB and Guide Dogs I was eventually offered an assessment to see if I would get a guide dog. It was at this point that I told my wife Denise what I'd been up to, she could not believe it. 

While all this was going on I was an active member of the Northumbria Community, a Celtic Christian, a new monastic. Imagine then my joy when eventually I was matched with my first dog, a dog called Abbot, me a new monastic being guided by an abbot, here was God telling me very loudly that this was the right thing, I've never looked back.

Getting Abbot and now having Jarvis has been the single most transformative experience of my life. Have I been healed of my disability? No, indeed it is in real terms far worse now. Have I been cured? Absolutely without doubt YES! My blindness holds very little fear for me now, in the 16yrs since Abbot arrived I have rebuilt my life, I've done an MA, changed career, moved house and my marriage has been totally transformed. To all those people back then who were demanding a miracle, all I can say is I have had not just one but many. 

This video was made for another organisation that Bill and I used to run, not all of it is relevant here but so much is.  

Jarvis and I have been working together for around 7yrs now and we have noticed a lot of changes to the way society treats disabled people. 

Post Brexit Britain is a meaner, more cruel, less caring place and disabled people are feeling that more than most. 

There is now hardly a day goes by when Jarvis and I don't face some abuse when out and about, from the total stranger who doesn't believe my blindness so holds his hand up and asks how many fingers, to the taxi driver who refuses to take Jarvis and the member of the public who does not think Jarvis should be allowed on a cafe and right through the to the total stranger who spits at me and calls me a fucking benefit crook. We have suffered all of this and way more since June last year. Yes it occasionally happened before but now it feels like a continuous onslaught of abuse. 

There are 2.1 million people on the UK visual impairment register and yet there are still only less than 4800 guide dog owners in the UK.

What this says to me is that too many visually impaired people no longer feel safe being out and about and therefore don't need a dog as they have simply given up on society. We should feel scandalised by this. 

If you've been following this blog you must realise by now that I am a very confident person but if it can get me to the point of wanting to shut my self off and believe me when I say that recently I have felt that way far more often, then what must it be like for the blind people who never had that natural confidence in the first place. 

As Christians we need to pray for these people, we need to do much more than that, we need to speak up for them, we need to challenge a society that can treat people in this way, we need to practise radical hospitality, to be a prophetic people.

It's way time that you saw just what an incredible job Jarvis does. Bill and I made this video a few years back for another project and I only just remembered it yesterday. It features the song "Hard Times" by our friend Jon Strong. 

Today is Jarvis's 9th birthday so instead of my usual ramblings here are some pictures that span his illustrious career.   The final picture is the only one I have of Abbot & Jarvis together.

The thoughts and feelings of people with sight problems are often ignored because many organisations are run by well-intentioned sighted people. With the best will in the world, these sighted people cannot know what’s best for people with sight impairment, nor can they be as motivated when it comes to campaigning for change. And very often they are frightened of saying the really hard things that might upset the sighted world, the people who give us our funding. Amongst themselves, they disagree about the best approach to take and waste time with infighting and political wrangling. 

Meanwhile, the people who have a problem with their sight can’t campaign, precisely because of the lack of progress made.

In many ways I’m lucky because as well as being very confident I’ve also had a good education and a broad range of life experiences. However, I’m not typical, as one very shocking comment I overheard illustrated: one former chief executive of the Guide Dogs charity turn to another and said: ‘He’s very bright for a blind man, isn’t he?’ This is unforgivable! To hear someone so high up utter such a phrase makes my blood boil.

The sad fact is that there are many people in my world who haven’t had my advantages. These people have no voice, no confidence and poor communication skills. Sometimes they are simply unable to put forward their own case in an effective way because their emotions overwhelm their attempts to argue rationally. 

For example, I once attended a meeting where the attendees were given the opportunity to lobby the European Transport Minister. One sight impaired gentleman spoke up but it soon emerged that he had neither the subject knowledge nor the eloquence to deal with the situation. When he realised he was losing the argument, he blurted out that he’d never in fact liked the minister and thought he was a ‘fat bastard’. The minister and his entourage simply left the building and I for one don’t blame him.

The deaf community always had such strong campaigners – campaigners like Jack (now Lord) Ashley. The sight impaired community, on the other hand, just had a few nice, middle-class, church-going ladies, with perfect eyesight, who could perhaps not put enough time or energy into campaigning. At least they started the ball rolling by setting up organisations such as the RNIB and Guide Dogs, but they haven’t as yet made much progress.

To improve this situation sight impaired people need to be far more involved in leading an organised campaign, which is well supported by sighted people. We need to be working alongside sighted campaigners. To make this possible, we clearly need to improve education and training opportunities for people with any kind of sight impairment so that they gradually develop the social, intellectual and managerial skills they need. The sight impaired also need to have leadership courses and skills development training so that fundraising can become more focused and professional. (And for that matter, why can’t funds be provided so that professional fundraisers do the fundraising?) People with sight difficulties will then be in a much stronger position to present polite, yet effective campaigns, which will benefit enormously from any support the sighted community is also able to give. In this respect, I applaud the way in which Guide Dogs is being led by sight impaired people themselves... and I would like to challenge sighted people within other charities to promote this model. All campaigns will be more effective if sight impaired people are at the helm. 

Who else has a better idea of what needs to be done?
We also desperately need the help of sighted people because too often sight impaired people don’t act because of a lack of money, a lack of confidence and a lack of awareness of their own rights. As a result, I would urge sighted people within the RNIB and Guide Dogs to help bring forward class actions under DDA on behalf of all sight impaired people – they are the ones with the resources and the influence. Failure to do so leaves sight impaired people disenfranchised.

Although I’ve always found politics to be mind-numbingly dull, I have become involved in this process of blindy-led campaigning. In recent years I’ve talked to parliamentary committees, individual Lords and MPs and I’ve even found myself marching outside parliament and speaking at a debate in Westminster Hall. Not bad for a blind lad from Jarrow!

It certainly wasn’t something I’d sought or expected, though. I’m now thinking of investing in my very own soap box. (And while I’m considering getting on it, I’d better mention right now that ‘blindy’ is a term only blindies are allowed to use. Don’t try using it yourself... Believe, me. It’s not a good idea.)

These are strange days indeed. This Sunday the 9th will mark Jarvis's 9th birthday. As all guide dogs retire by 10 discussions have already began about when he might retire and what my needs might be in the future. 

In my mind I still think of Jarvis as very much the new boy but the truth is we've been working together now for 7yrs. 

He has cared for me wonderfully throughout that time, not just as a brilliant guide but also as a great companion during a period of great change in my life. The bond between us is every bit as strong as it was with Abbot before him and it feels like just as we were getting started it is time for the old boy to hang ups his harness. 

Being a guide dog owner has informed my faith life in so many ways and here we are heading in to another significant period of change. I don't know what will happen after Jarvis retires, who knows who the next dog will be or what they will be like but what I do know is that I have complete faith in the process. God has already provided me with two wonderful guides and companions and I'm quite sure he will do the same again.

So I have begun to think of the next 12mths as Jarvis's farewell tour. Watch this space for what events we might be attending in the next year and if we're ever near you get along to meet the old boy before he retires. 

Bumbling Along

Let me tell you about the very first walk I did with a guide dog, here is an excerpt from my book.

Eventually, later on that same day Lynne takes me out with my first-ever guide dog, a dog named Bumble. Bumble is a beautiful, two-year-old golden retriever bitch, very like my own dear Tessa. Someone is trying to win me over, knowing I have a soft spot for dogs that look like this. Well, it isn’t going to work. I’m wise to this strategy and made of stronger stuff.

I desperately want to ruffle Bumble’s fur and make a fuss of her but I know that once I do that the game will be up and I’ll be getting a guide dog. That simply isn’t about to happen. Lynne follows along behind us constantly nagging me to praise my dog but I resist again, so poor old Bumble gets none of the praise she deserves. Lynne carries on repeatedly nudging me in the back, telling me to praise my dog but I simply don’t listen.

Little do I know as I stand on the kerb outside the centre that my life is about to change forever.
I’m convinced the whole thing is a waste of time and am on the verge of passing the dog back to Lynne and walking out on the whole thing. But then we come to our first junction and something special happens... For many years now I haven’t been able to stand on the edge of a kerb without losing my balance and swaying like a drunk. This is a side effect of my condition and has led to a great deal of ridicule, leaving me feeling very self-conscious. Crossing roads has become something I fear not just because I can’t see the oncoming traffic but also because I’m always expecting someone to make a wisecrack about the drunk about to fall off the kerb. I’ve even begun to plan routes so that I cross as few roads as possible, often taking routes that take me far out of my way simply to avoid crossing as many roads. This is a highly impractical solution but it’s nonetheless become the norm for me. Journeys needed extra planning and extra time must be allowed.

But now, as we reach the kerb Bumble places herself at once between me and the edge of the kerb, forcing me back from the edge and freeing me from that swaying sensation. Suddenly, in one life-changing moment a guide dog has grabbed my attention. I’d never have thought such a thing possible. This was not part of the plan.

Later on, back at the centre, I sit down for my evening meal, ready to take a new look at things. This is my first meal with my fellow blindies and somehow it doesn’t seem as bad as I’d always imagined it would. Around the table I see people who are vibrant, interesting, witty and intelligent. There is no sign of a dodgy haircut. They are just like me in fact: cool, trendy, lovable and modest. There is no sign of a hand- knitted, baggy jumper and no one offers to take me on a trip to the seaside. It’s not at all what I’ve been expecting.

For years I’ve deluded myself into thinking I wasn’t like these people. I’ve always refused point-blank to accept my sight impairment. It’s never occurred to me as I’ve been about my business crashing into things and staring myopically at things for ages on end, unable to read them, that other people already perceive me as being sight impaired, irrespective of the impression I try to create. As far as I’ve been concerned, if you have no dog and carry no cane then no-one knows. How wrong can you be? Yet for years that really is what I’ve truly believed. 

Gradually, I start to realise that we each have very little control over how other people perceive us. What matters is who we know ourselves to be. Bugger! How could I have been so stupid?

Later that evening Lynne takes me out for a second session with Bumble. It’s 6.30pm and since it’s October it’s already pitch dark, moonless and definitely a night when the old Dave Lucas would have found some lame excuse not to be out. I use various ploys to avoid facing the fact that on a night as dark as this I simply lose all confidence and become totally night blind... (Night blindness is a recognised diagnosable eye condition and one of several I suffer from).

Perhaps it’s too cold. Or I’m washing my hair. Or maybe there’s this program about dung beetles that I just can’t miss.

But tonight here I am out in the dark with this dog, being followed about by this strange woman who keeps giving us instructions in a very loud voice. And yes, I’ve even been persuaded to wear florescent clothing. They told me it’s for insurance reasons but I reckon it’s just so they can get a cheap laugh at how uncool I look. I plod along, feeling cold, uncomfortable, embarrassed and frightened.

I’m about to take my third lesson. Bumble and I are settled at the kerb. Lynne says that when I’m ready I should give Bumble the command forward and cross the road. Until now, I’ve never been able to judge the speed of traffic and for years I’ve been crossing roads using my ears alone. The logic goes if you can’t hear anything it must be safe. Of course, this is not a foolproof system and I’ve been run over twice because of it. I’m also used to being frequently screamed at by terrified motorists as I step off the kerb in front of them. (I must admit, this has almost been happening every day recently.) As Lynne explained to me earlier on, I’ve even been in constant danger of being run over by a milk float – let alone by a No. 57 bus.

I listen to the traffic and decide that the nearest car sounds far enough away to be of no danger so I give Bumble the command ‘Forward’. Nothing happens. I actually feel her dig her paws in and refuse to move. Hey, I think, this dog is faulty. I want my money back! Then I hear Lynne behind me sniggering. I don’t know what you’re bloody laughing at, I
think. I change the tone of my voice to what I think sounds a more authoritative one and once again I give Bumble the command to move forward. Still nothing. Not a flicker. This dog is definitely a dud. They can have her back. This whole guide dog thing is a waste of time. Then, very suddenly, I hear a roar as a bus thunders past, inches from my nose. Bumble had spotted it and had judged it too close for comfort. So no matter how many times the fool at the other end of the harness asked her, she was not going to move. Guide Dogs refer to this as intelligent disobedience.

We’re getting near the end of Lent now and this blog will soon be over and I’m sure there must be some issue or other over which we disagree. You wouldn’t be the first to tell me what a stubborn pain in the arse I can be. Don’t worry... this is what I expected and you can’t help being wrong. I wanted this blog to be challenging. 

I want to encourage a debate on issues relating to sight impairment. Above all, I want to get the church community to walk a mile in the shoes of the sight impaired. If I can just change the mind of one sighted person, I’ll consider this blog a success.

I know there are people I may have been too harsh about. I’ve found it difficult to portray the issues without seeming overcritical and only you can decide if I’ve been successful. All I know is that if you think I’ve been too harsh, just be glad you didn’t know me in earlier days. 

Seriously though, some of my comments have been written in anger. I’ve tried to put this to one side so as to save face with you but in truth there are some subjects which are still too raw to comment on in a less passionate way. There are some subjects I’m so angry about I haven’t dared include them here at all. And I certainly haven’t learned to see the funny side of them...

The plain fact is that this is not a blog written on behalf of anyone. I am not in the employ of any blind charity nor am I a spokesman for the sight impaired. I represent no one but myself and even then I’m prone to changing my own mind. I’m simply a blind man trying to come to terms with his own sight impairment and all the emotions that go with it – the good, the bad and the downright ugly.
You may not agree with my politics and – who knows? – you could be right. My interpretation of disability law may be a bit too militant for your tastes but I make no apology for it, nor will you be able to change my mind. 

This blog is just my way of dealing with all these feelings and issues in a way that is true to myself. If it makes me look bad, that’s probably because I am bad. What I have given you here are merely edited highlights. (I have been far too embarrassed to admit to some of my behaviour.)

Suffice to say, from that horrible day in 1987 onwards (when I lost my job in bakery management), I spent well over a decade in a blind fury – almost literally! I was in such a filthy temper about my sight loss that I didn’t have a single thought about how my behaviour might impact on all those around me. After all, it was their fault! 

There were years and years when my behaviour was simply unacceptable and the legacy of that period lives with me still. There are many people who were so hurt by my behaviour that they remain to this day unable to forgive me and move on. I cannot begin to describe how sad this makes me. These people are never far from my thoughts and I am deeply ashamed. My life is only redeemed by the love of Denise, then Abbot and now Jarvis, none of which I deserve but all of which I thank God for daily.

In the end I’m just a bad-tempered blindy from Jarrow, searching for something to make sense of this madness. I think I’ve started finding solutions, but it’s a long road and who can say how it will end? All I know is that with Jarvis at my side, anything is possible.

Abbot came into my life when I was about to press the self-destruct button. Single-pawed, he has saved me from myself. God bless him and keep him safe till we meet again. I owe him more than these feeble words can express.

However, because I don’t want this to be a soppy, sugary, sentimental tale – but a true-life account which really conveys my feelings (which I know a lot of other blind people share) – I must add one thing here. I think it’s time the sighted community stopped putting dogs before people. Yes, it’s great that sighted people love guide dog puppies and guide dogs and that they make a huge fuss over Abbot and his doggy colleagues... but I wish they would learn to love and care for their owners as well. Often someone will bend down to make a fuss of Abbot saying “Ah isn’t he lovely” to which I reply “his owner’s not bad too”.

By now, you should realise that this statement in no way dilutes my feelings about Abbot. But consider how I feel when I meet people who are greatly taken by Abbot and make passionate enquiries about his welfare without once ever asking about mine. Have you any idea how demeaning that can be? Can you imagine what that can do to the self- esteem of a guide dog owner? Of course it’s good that so many people show such love for our dogs but sight impaired people need to be placed before their dogs in the concerns of everyone, always.

Guide Dogs for the Blind accepts this viewpoint. Despite its name, it’s not a dog charity – it exists to serve the needs of sight impaired people and despite its cuddly image it is a campaigning body with a mandate to promote the independence of sight impaired people. This is what must be kept at the forefront of the agenda and any volunteers who are only there because they love puppies are really in the wrong place: they should either move to another charity or refocus their attention on the sight impaired people who need them. It’s great to appreciate and enjoy the dogs, but focusing on the human beings and understanding their needs and interests is much more important at the end of the day... and all through it, in fact!

If you ever feel like joining me on the new Jarrow Crusade...

I went to a normal school where I was ridiculed because I was the kid with specs like jam jars and because my eyes moved in funny ways.

My whole childhood was dogged by constant ridicule about my poor sight.

I am not trying to tell you that I had an unhappy childhood because by and large I did not. I am saying that my poor vision was so bad that it became a source of embarrassment to me. So much so that I began to hide it as best I could which meant that I did not always get the help and support I needed.
I refused to sit near the blackboard where I needed to be, as this would draw attention to me.

I stopped wearing my glasses for the same reason.
By the time I left school my consultant wanted me to register as partially sighted.

I refused point blank; I would not be moved and spent over 20 years trying to hide the problem.
I memorised everything from the news to bus times and phone numbers so that no one would know. I used to listen to the newspaper review in the morning on Radio 4 and memorise the stories so that if I was in the pub in the evening with my mates, I could join in the conversation about the articles they had read in the papers as if I had read the same article myself.

I have to tell you that I now know that this behaviour is typical of many people with poor sight.

By the time I reached 40 I could not walk down a street without crashing in to someone or something and so I was forced to take action.

It hurt more than anything has ever hurt me; it felt like giving in, I thought the whole world was laughing at me and making remarks behind my back. This type of paranoia is typical of many visually impaired people.

I registered as partially sighted in 2000.
In December 2001 I got Abbot, my first guide dog who has helped me, not only as a guide, he has helped me come to terms with my blindness, to be at ease with it and I owe him my life. He has changed my life forever and now I regret not having done it sooner.

I’m now with Jarvis, guide dog number two.

In 2004 I was registered blind.

However, I am a stubborn man, full of foolish pride and if I had to be completely honest with you, if I had to do it all again I would still spend years trying to hide it. Years where I simply ran away.

Visual impairment is a kick in the self-esteem and few of us want to face it.

It’s painful and it’s often easier to simply pretend it’s not happening. In the last few years I have talked to hundreds of people with failing sight and this experience is typical. Almost all of us have developed strategies to prevent you from knowing the severity of our visual impairment.

This blog will not always have shown me in a good light. Indeed, it will sometimes show me as a bad-tempered old fool, full of self pity and more than a little bitterness. You might ask why I would risk being seen in this way... Well, above all I wanted to give you an honest account of my experience of sight loss, warts and all.

The world of the severely sight impaired (who used to be called ‘blind’) is strewn with obstacles, often placed there by sighted people who are simply unaware of the effect their actions can have on the life of a sight impaired person. You will hear me rant and rave and generally stamp my feet about these things and I know this may be difficult. At one point, I thought about removing all such material from the blog and had gone as far as highlighting huge tracts of text, ready to delete them. Then I realised there would be very little left as I rather like ranting and in any case it would in no way represent my true feelings as they arose along this journey.

I eventually decided to give you the unedited version – including the tears and tantrums, the anger and joys – and
let you form your own opinion. Sometimes what I say may surprise you. Sometimes it may make you sad. Sometimes it may shock you. I suspect it will even cause offence. (I don’t really write off whole groups of people, as you might sometimes suspect... but I have made this mistake at various times in my journey.) 

Occasionally, my thoughts may give you a laugh. And I earnestly hope and pray that just once or twice they might inspire you.

This blog won’t provide you with all the answers about sight loss because as yet I haven’t found them. What I have done, however, is reach an accommodation with my sight loss so that I’m no longer at war with it. I’m now able to wear the label of a blind man and not feel embarrassed or hurt by it. It has taken well over 40 years to get to this point... Even if I had known years ago what I know now, I cannot honestly say that I would have done things any differently.

Through this blog I want you to gain a sense of what life is like for sight impaired people in the UK in the early 21st century. People with sight impairments still face prejudice, abuse and ridicule on a daily basis, causing them to lead lives of segregation, isolation, fear and – all too often – loneliness.

I long to see many things but more than anything I want to see a world where opportunity is open to sight impaired people on an equal basis. I’m sad to say, we still have a way to go.

If more sight impaired (and severely sight impaired) people are to achieve their full potential, then society needs to change. This will only come about when we’re able to face the issues honestly, all of us together, sighted and sight

impaired. This book is simply one man’s attempt to create a debate about how that will be possible.

As a sight impaired person, life isn’t perfect. But it can be such fun. And it really can be fulfilling and worthwhile. Sight impairment is bearable and it is possible to lead a full life despite it. Believe me, I do. 

Let's talk a bit about the transition period between Abbot's retirement and the arrival of new boy Jarvis.

By now it must be very obvious just how much I loved Abbot, not only was he a brilliant guide but more than anything he helped me come to terms with my blindness, to be at peace with it. He healed all the anger and rage that I had felt jut by his huge personality, his sense of fun and his protective nature. 

The first few times I went out with Jarvis and had to leave Abbot at home I felt like I was betraying Abbot but the truth is Abbot was happy to retire and let the young pup take on the responsibility. 

My main worry was that I would compare Jarvis against Abbot, such big paws to follow in but I needn't have worried. The truth is Jarvis has an amazing personality too but in a totally different way. Jarvis is the strong silent type, we were never comparing like with like.

Jarvis too has been far more than a guide, he has stood by me some very difficult times of change, his presence always reassuring and attentive.

For one man to have had two such incredible dogs. I have been and indeed continue to be very blessed.

Well it had to happen eventually, Guide Dogs For The Blind has succumbed to the cuts juts as every institution has had to in the last few years.

I have received a letter. I have been placed on the Guide Dog Sharing Scheme. 

I am to have Jarvis on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and a half a day on Sundays and another blind person is to have him the rest of the week.

You can not begin to imagine what an affect their will have on my life.