EBU National Member: RNIB

Name: Ffion Miles

Gender: Female

Age: 41

Country: UK

EBU national member: RNIB

Number of words: 512

FATHER BRAILLE

Braille, the parent – me, the child.

That sums up my relationship with those sixlittle dots. Usually fun, sometimes frustrating – but always necessary.

An absentee father until I was five, yes – but one who soon stamped his authority on the battle of reading simple tales in large black letters, held just inches from my radiotherapy-ravaged ‘good’ eye.

At six, I was reluctant to be whisked awayfrom my mainstream school friends two mornings a week to enterthe world of the special school, where chairs had wheels, classrooms contained beds – and I would learn to read with my fingers.

But Father Braille knew best.

In no time, those six strange dots became letters and the letters became words – and I fell head-over-heels into the world of giant peaches, mad hatters and four wayward children and their curious dog Timmy.

And it turned out that other people in the school read like that too.

I also gained the delicious knowledge of defying the nightly call of ‘lights out’, by slipping my book under the covers and continuing my clandestine journeythrough Anne of Green Gables’ adventures.

I clattered out the creations of my own imagination on the Perkins Brailler, scribbling out my imperfections with the fat little eraser.

As I grew, so the books grew with me – quite literally. The Little Women’strials took five green jacketed volumes. The enlightening teenage romance of Judy Bloom’s Forever took seven tomes – and as for Lords of the Rings… I can only pity the postman.

ThenI became a teenager – bring on the rebellious streak!

I stuck my hands in my pockets, getting my fiction fix through my Walkman.

I tapped out essays on my laptop.

I battled through university text books under my CCTV.

Father Braille was behind the times. Be weeks late to the latest Harry Potter book bash? No way.

But he was patient, knowing I’d never be too old to need his help.

“I’ve got five questions I need you to ask Justin Bieber – can you jot ‘em down?”

Agh! How to survive as a BBC researcher on the move without paper and pencil?

Voila – the Braille notetaker!

The perfect way to subtly remind my distracted brain of questions without glancing down while interviewing an international popstar.

Holding a piece of paper with giant print up to my eye just wouldn’t have been so smooth.

And what an advantage in choir.

“No staring down at your copies, please – eyes on me while I’m conducting.”

No problem, I think, my hand at my hip, surreptitiously reminding myself of the lyrics I’d been too lazy to learn, my head held high.

And if I’m feeling creative, I can curl up and write, without the constant babble of disembodied electronic voices in my ear. It’s sometimes nice to be silent.

It’s just that now with a notetaker, I can slip my stories into my Mulberry, rather than needing a hefty rucksack for Perkins and paper.

So, it just goes to show. You never stop needing your parents–and I never stopped needing Braille.