Unsurprisingly, there are many questions sighted people put to blind people concerning blindness. They range from the general – “do blind people really hear better than sighted people?” – to the personal – “how do you know that your clothes go together?” – to the outlandish – “do blind people have a greater spiritual awareness than everyone else?”

The most annoying question I’ve been asked, repeatedly, is, “what can you tell about a person from their voice?” Hmm. What should I be able to tell. Am I supposed to provide a Sherlock Holmes-like analysis of someone, only from a few words, rather than the state of a person’s fingernails or trouser knees?

“Well, Watson, from the way in which this gentleman has said ‘good morning’, I can only deduce that he is left-handed, is an accountant, a lapsed catholic, supports Aston Villa in football, Somerset in cricket, and Leicester in rugby, his favourite breakfast is poached egg on toast, he has a phobia of gerbils, uses an electric toothbrush, is a life-long Bros fan, always eats the toffees from the family tin of quality Street at Christmas, and his favourite book is a toss-up between The Little Engine That Could, and À la Recherche du Temps Perdu. Oh, and he intensely dislikes his wife’s choice of curtains for their bedroom. Apart from these trifles, I’m afraid that there are no data.”

It is, of course, utterly ridiculous. But people will insist that I must be able to tell all sorts of things about a person from his or her voice. The most common thing they want to know is, “how old do I sound?” Grrrr!

I decided, when one of my grandfather’s friends asked me that, that diplomacy would be prudent. So, rather than telling her that she sounded as old as the hills, I said, “as old as your tongue, and a little older than your teeth”. Not a bad answer for a boy of ten or eleven.

However, the indignant splutter into her cup of tea suggested that I might have said the wrong thing. Her reply, when it came, confirmed it. “For heaven’s sake, child, I’m a lady, not a horse!” Well, she did ask.

I told another of my grandfather’s friends that he was twice half his age when he too had a fatuous moment. After he did the relevant calculations, he told me that, “that was a very smart answer, and it’s true”. Of course it is.

Obviously, I can’t speak for all blind people, but I can’t tell a person’s age by the sound of their voice. Often it can be approximated, but it can only ever be precise by accident. And there are voices that defy logic. The humorist Gerard Hoffnung, for example, sounded like an old man, even though he died at the tender age of thirty-four. Conversely, I know a lady who sounds as though she is in her mid thirties, yet age has actually rendered her a Beatles song.

Voice has never even been a wholly reliable indicator of a person’s gender, even during those simple days when there were only two of them, rather than the exponentially increasing numbers we have today. Of course, it rarely is among children, but you’d think that it was always possible to tell if you’re listening to an adult man or woman, wouldn’t you? Well, dear reader, I’m here to tell you that you’d be wrong.

A goodly number of years ago, I was propping up the bar of a pub. Behind me, a group of people were playing pool. One of this group had an awkwardly pitched voice. It could have been a man with a high voice, or a woman with a deep voice. As the person I spoke most to that evening was the barmaid, I didn’t think it proper to make enquiries. However, she was one of those people who always uses people’s names if she knows them. So it seemed reasonable to suppose that I might find out that way.

I waited. Each of the pool players bought a round, or wanted change in order to release the balls for another game. Because of my intense curiosity, I was compelled to drink more beer. It was tough being me during my twenties, you know. Eventually it was the Androgynous One’s turn to put a hand in a pocket. He/she came up to the bar. Assuming that the creature was a regular, it seemed reasonable to suppose that I was about to receive enlightenment. Only I wasn’t. The barmaid handed over some coins with a cheery, “there’s your change, Les”.

So, dear reader, I’m unlikely to be able to tell you much about yourself from your voice. But if you have other questions, I might be able to answer them. Oh, and I never did find out whether it was Leslie or Lesley.