I find all this big D, little d thing amusing, if not annoying.
I have been on the receiving end of the D question on a number of occasions. And, it is funny how the Deaf community play it out. On the assumption that I can speak well, they are quick to tell their common fellows, that I'm really hearing or HOH. Whatever they say sticks like the proverbial does to a blanket.
Have you heard the one where a D, goes up to a comedian? Well, the D asks the comedian if he thinks the D is a little d or, infact, a big D. The comedian replies in timely fashion and says, 'No, you're a W instead.'
So the sorry saga continues...
Everyone is segregated like a Terry's chocolate orange, only that the chocolate tastes better. The D's are in the language of sign and fully absorbed into the Deaf community. The little d's, are the late deafened ones and ones who cannot hear for toffee, but can speak for toffee. The fact they can speak, gives them the prized 'd' title. Then you have the HOH, who are moderately deaf, but with hearing aids can understand speech.
Each to their own really, but we are all interconnected by default.
Hearing folk will banish us under one group and label it to whatever takes their fancy. I have been refered to as the 'Deaf and Dumb brigade' and 'The Simpletons' which as it happens I find funny. Being able to laugh at what gobshite comes out of their mouths keeps the tubes clear of condensation.
I think all these Terry's have their own unique personalities. An old mate of mine who happens to be a D, often popped round unannounced at any hour of the day or night to see me. One time I was in my room listening to Heavy Metal, with my own disco going on. Ringing the doorbell wasn't going to get my attention and I didn't have one of those flashing lights you can get down the social.
Anyway, the mate is banging on the door trying to get my attention to no avail. Now, most would just give up and go home, but him? no no, he had another trick under his sleeve. He managed to let himself in and made his way to my bedroom door and knocked. I heard this knock and thought it was coming from the stereo, so I went to check the stereo. Then, as I did I let out an almighty scream, that any opera singer would be dead proud of. This Terry was standing by the doorway, laughing his head off whilst a 101 things raced through my mind.
'You're a T' I shouted out.
Lip-reading me he replied:
'Mine's white with two sugars please'