I know precisely when and where my hearing problems began. It was April 1980, at a Gerry Rafferty concert at Aberdeen’s Capitol Theatre. Gerry was his usual uncommunicative self, but otherwise on top form. He had a very loud brass section and having seats a few feet from the stage, proved to be a mixed blessing.

The highlight was a 12-minute version of Baker Street, including three extended renditions of pop’s most famous sax solo. On leaving the theatre, I was aware of a burglar alarm-type ringing in my ears and traffic noise on Union Street was strangely muted. There’s little doubt my hearing had been permanently damaged.

I wasn’t surprised to learn two of my rock heroes, Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend of The Who, suffer severe hearing loss. Daltrey describes himself as “very, very deaf” and relies on lip reading. He encourages young concert goers to wear ear protection to avoid a similar fate. Ah Roger, where were you when I needed you?

It's been slowly downhill since that fateful night. Like most people who experience hearing loss, I’ve developed a range of coping strategies. What do you do when you don’t hear or just pick up fragments? My in-house expert tells me my go-to strategy is pretending I’ve heard what’s been said. That usually involves nodding or smiling at the speaker. That only gets you so far and you look a bit of a daftie if you’ve been asked a question.

It’s also risky to extrapolate from a fragment that you’ve picked up. After a recent game of geriatric squash, I thought my opponent asked if I was tired, to which I replied, “only my legs”. His puzzled expression was probably down to the question being, “are you retired?”

The British Deaf Society reports that deafness is the world’s third most common disability and there may be at least nine million people in the UK who are deaf or hard of hearing. Yet, it’s the only common disability that’s the regular butt of “humour” by other people. Too often, tell someone you’re “a bit deaf”, and they’ll “wittily” respond, “Pardon?” Oh, ha bloody ha. Deafness is no laughing matter; contributing to isolation and even dementia amongst older people. Additionally, there’s strong evidence to suggest growing numbers of younger people experience hearing loss at an early age.

When someone in the family has a hearing problem, the whole household shares the problem. We have reached the stage where television can only be watched with the assistance of subtitles. I stopped turning up the volume when the airport began complaining about the noise. Football is watched with the commentary muted, although that’s less to do with deafness and more to do with Ally McCoist.

Cinema and theatre visits are something of an ordeal. I was able to enjoy Kenneth Branagh’s Belfast only because it was a subtitled showing. I hear you ask, “What are you doing about it?” At least I think that’s what you said. Luckily, the in-house oracle is on hand to share an insight or six. It’s all due to my unwillingness to accept that I’m an oldie and, oh yes, a bit of vanity comes into the equation as well.

In defence, I tell of my father’s daily skirmishes with his NHS-supplied aids. He was oblivious to the high-pitched whistle they emitted, but it drove every dog in the neighbourhood daft. In our house we had a variation on Hunt the Thimble. We called it, “Hunt Dad’s Hearing Aid Battery”.

Sure, technology has moved on and my wife has upped the pressure by signing up for a couple of those expensive, new-fangled hearing thingies. Apparently, they’re “bluetooth enabled” and “pick up everything”. At that price I would expect them to pick up Sky and Netflix. My suggestion that we halve the cost by sharing fell on deaf ears.

It looks as if I may have to follow suit, unless someone has a better idea. As my photo shows, I’m all ears.

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