I am, by nature, a tidy person because knowing where things are is crucial for anyone who is blind to be able to keep on top of things.

And it makes perfect sense . . . doesn't it? If you can't see where things are, as far as is in your control, you make sure everything has its logically-ordered place where you can put your hands straight on it when required.

No racking your brains where you put it last.

No frantic feeling here, there and everywhere - and then again . . . no missing your object of desire by mere inches without realising.

No laboriously sifting through piles of what-have-you for what-have-you-not.

Well, that's the theory anyway.

But you can't order everything around you. And you've got to remember it all.

Though it does seem to have served David Blunkett pretty well.

But look again at that opening quote from his autobiography and maybe it doesn't make quite so much sense after all?

I agree, everything in its place is crucial to keeping on top of things but it's that "because".

Why, then, aren't I tidy too?

Is it because I have a sighted wife who I can ask to help find things for me?

Well, no, because before we were married I lived alone for ten years and still didn't learn to be tidy.

Is it that I've acquired more stuff than I have room for?

That is true.

Over the years I have accumulated far too many Braille books, clothes and compact discs (which I've never got round to marking in Braille) and not very much of it is sensibly sorted or stored. But that doesn't explain my untidiness.

Is it, then, that I wasn't taught to be tidy as a child? Or am I just plain lazy?

But to think blind people are naturally tidy is just one of many "myths".

Take this for instance. It's from the article introducing me as an Argus columnist, together with Roger South's response on behalf of the Sussex Active Blind Club: "Another thing that annoys me is everyone thinks we love clubs.

"I went to a disabled club and there were all these blind men singing round a piano and it just made me grimace.

"They were so aggressive. I might have to join a club soon though because I want to learn judo."

Journalistic "slippage", I'm afraid.

Yes, people do ask if I belong to a "blind club" and I did describe the singing incident - though it didn't take place at a club.

Also, you'd infer I was going to join a club for blind people to learn judo from the above.

Not so. My main point, however, was completely missing.

I'm just not a "clubbable" sort of guy.

So I can understand Roger South's frustration at what I appeared to say.

The Sussex Active Blind Club was formed to get away from the stereotypical image of cups of tea, community singing and home before 9pm," he wrote, before listing trips to France, Hampton Court, audio-described plays and driving round London in a wartime amphibious coach as among the club's activities.

If, by not mentioning clubs of this sort, I've caused offence, I'm sorry.

But, ordinarily, that wouldn't be my cup of tea, either.

In the event, however, I may well accept the offer to go along sometime as the club's guest.