Scottish Dancing

                                             Scottish Dancing

  

         

Lindsay beamed as he showed us what he had just bought at the gift shop: a CD of Scottish country dance music.  I stared at it in astonishment.  Lindsay was profoundly deaf.  How would he be able to enjoy it?  Then I remembered what his wife Sheila had told me.  Lindsay had had normal hearing until the age of five, when a severe attack of measles had resulted in his total deafness.  Perhaps, like Evelyn Glennie, the famous deaf percussionist, he would feel the different vibrations of the strathspeys, waltzes and reels?

We were at the Burns Centre in Alloway, Ayrshire, birthplace of the poet Robert Burns.  The couple came to Scotland every year for a brief visit.  Before moving to England, where he met and married Sheila, Lindsay had lived in Alloway.  I remembered him well as a cheerful ginger-haired young man who cycled round the district collecting money on behalf of a charity for the deaf.  When he arrived at our doorstep, because I found it difficult to understand what he was saying, I would give him a pencil and paper.  That allowed us to have a little “chat”.

Alas, Lindsay died suddenly when still relatively young.  But Sheila continued their annual tradition, coming all the way from Middlesex to visit their Scottish friends.  I admired her courage and determination because not only was she totally deaf but she also had seriously impaired vision.  She would contact me in advance to arrange a date when I would come for her at the hotel and take her out for the day.

One year, shortly I had moved from Alloway to Prestwick, we arranged that I would bring her to my new home for lunch.  Before preparing the meal, I decided to put on some lively music to energise me.  I knew that I would be very busy that afternoon, not only cooking the lunch and driving Sheila to and from her hotel but also conversing with her by means of our unusual communication system.  I would sit beside her so that she could read my lips, then she would say something and wait for my response, placing her hand lightly on my throat to feel the vibration of my vocal cords.

 I unwrapped a new CD which had been given to me the night before by the couple who had bought my house.  They both played in a ceilidh band and had recorded two CDs of Scottish dance music.  Having heard that they had recently had a new baby, I had gone back to my former home with a present for their little son.  (It felt strange, standing on the familiar doorstep and ringing the bell – just as Lindsay used to do!)  By way of thanks for the present, the couple gave me a copy of this, their latest CD.

As I unwrapped it, I smiled at the picture on the front cover of a dancing man and woman facing one another, about to link arms and swing round in a Scottish reel.  I slipped the CD into the player and pressed the Play button.  The band struck up the first dramatic chord - the chord which announces the beginning of the dance and at which the men and the ladies bow or curtsey to their partner.                                          

                                         

Just at that very moment I heard the postman push something through my letterbox.  It was a card from my niece Joanna in Manchester.  Joanna had never met Sheila and had no idea that she was visiting me that week.  The picture on the card was of two Scottie dogs facing one another in a dance.   

The caption read ‘Scottish dancing’. I couldn’t believe my eyes!

After lunch I took a photograph of Sheila holding the two pictures of the Scottish dancers.  Once again I was filled with amazed energising joy – which kept me smiling with delight for the rest of the afternoon!

(Sequel)

Over ten years later I took this second photograph of Sheila – to record another day of joy!

She is proudly displaying her new smart phone which has a QWERTY keyboard in large letters, instead of small characters in alphabetical groups.  This allowed her to communicate with ease.

In a restaurant at lunchtime that day we sat down opposite each other.  While we were studying the menu, I took out my mobile phone and texted her: ‘What would you like for dessert?’  Instantly, laughing with delight, she typed her reply and pressed ‘Send’. ‘Apple crumble!’ – to which I texted, ‘Me too!’

To anyone else that would seem trivial, but for Sheila, it was a major breakthrough.  How grateful we were for this advance in technology, and for the talents of the people who had invented this precious device.  Not only was communication now much simpler, but for the first time, Sheila felt no different from all the other people around her who were using their smart phones.

So, my two photos of Sheila record two completely different sources of Joy!

Thanks be to God for both!