Well, this is nearly it. I'm coming to the end of this little series of Heard World columns.

Not that there's not plenty more I could write about, it's just I'm worried that one month soon I might not have a topic ready for you to read about.

So maybe I'd better stop while I'm ahead - and before I worry myself silly.

But that leaves a few loose ends - going right back as far as the misunderstanding over my use of the word, "clubbable", when I was interviewed in January 2001, before the first Heard World appeared.

"I'm not a very clubbable sort of guy," I said and then also mentioned an occasion when I'd felt rather uncomfortable at the behaviour of a group of blind people I was with.

Unfortunately, how that was written up led to the Sussex Active Blind Club believing I was criticising it and an offer of an invitation to join its members on one of their activities, to see for myself just how wrong I was about all "blind clubs" being tea-and-biscuits gossip shops.

But, after duly contacting an officer of the club and also mentioning it to a committee member who I sometimes meet in the street, I've still heard nothing more.

Maybe my contact had second thoughts about her suggestion of writing about it in one of these pieces?

Then there's the judo. (What was that about not being "clubbable"!) But, yes, I did join the Brighton Judo Club and, yes, I was the only blind person there.

But, even though I've been discharged from physiotherapy for some months now, the frozen shoulder which stopped me going almost a year ago still hasn't completely unfrozen. And I don't think I've got the will-power or the nervous energy to return.

You see, I was always rather nervy of making a fool of myself and edgy about holding the rest of the class up.

And, after all, it's a long way across town at that time of night, I keep telling myself. . .

But Mark, the instructor, along with everyone else, welcomed me and took me seriously. At least, they let me throw them over my head! And yes - I did enjoy it.

Which definitely cannot be said, however, about my computer.

After my application to the Leonard Cheshire Workability Scheme got lost and the later difficulty of finding a volunteer to help me learn, I eventually received my computer, with its specialist screen-reading software and synthetic speech, in April. I knew I was going to have to put up with the irritating synthetic voice, as braille output wasn't an option because of its price.

But by using the computer's CD player to listen to the 12 discs of manual and tutorial, I learnt how to operate the computer as a totally blind person - mouselessly, using only the keyboard.

The trouble with David, my volunteer, is that he knows so much, which, of course, he's rightly eager to pass on to me.

Well. . ! No - not quite. Because to tell the truth, a friend privately predicted - as he tells me now - that I and the computer just wouldn't get on. So it's full marks for character analysis to him, say I!

And, oh dear David - do you appreciate quite how temperamentally unsuited to computers and their vicissitudes I now realise myself to be? Best just think of me as a Martian, maybe. . .

But, as part of the Workability Scheme, I have committed to take a distance learning computer course by email. And with my wife's patience and persistence, I do sort of know more-or-less-ish what I'm doing in the email department.

It won't come as any surprise, then, that my computer has played no part whatsoever in bringing this column to you - it's been Perkins Brailler, cassette recorder and typewriter.

But there's still next month. . .