Within the guide dog centre

Greetings from the GDBA's centre in East London where I've been training with my new dog Bosley for the last couple of weeks. I'm in the home straight now completing my final week here, and I just can't wait to get out of here and back to civilisation. Life at the centre has become a monotonous and mind-numbingly boring dog-dominated routine with bouts of intense frustration thrown in for good measure.

So far the most significant events have been last week's news of the association's intent to revolutionise the way it runs itself, which I'll come back to later, and Bosley successfully guiding me through Romford's bustling and noisy market.

Our sojourn in the market has been the most challenging walk Bosley and I have been asked to do so far. Before that, we had been out together numerous times, but the main purpose of those walks had been to develop our working relationship - so they'd taken place in fairly quiet and people-free surroundings. The market walk was an opportunity for my instructor to assess how adept I had become at working with and controlling Bosley. Before we began our jaunt through the market my instructor assured me that if we could make it through without demolishing any stalls or taking any old ladies out, we would be able to handle just about any situation. The fact that Bosley was obedient and made it through with flying colours was rewarding and a huge relief to me, because his work till then had been unpredictable and erratic.

To prove the point, on a second walk later that day on a deserted housing estate, Bosley obligingly guided me straight into a lamp post at the edge of a kerb. After swearing at him and muttering about the sharp pain in my head, we ventured across the road only for me to trip and find myself sprawled over a discarded sack of rubbish on the opposite kerb. I was shaken and irritated with Bosley after his faultless performance earlier in the market. Looking back on it now though, I'm not surprised it happened. On previous walks with Bosley during my time here, I've experienced the pain of smashing into brick walls, several phone boxes and bus shelters. My unerringly enthusiastic instructor keeps telling me that Bosley, who is nineteen months old, is still immature and is not quite used to handling his responsibilities as a guide dog. According to him, Bosley just needs a lot of encouragement and praise, which I reckon is fair enough, but it takes every ounce of my will-power to tell him he's a good boy after he's just walked me into a wall and I've got blood gushing out of my hand.

Other than that though, I've got no complaints about Bosley! He's settled down quickly and has turned out to be a gentle and affectionate creature. He's curled up on the floor next to me as I'm writing but I have to keep stopping when he nudges me for a fuss. He's one of about a hundred and forty dogs in training at this centre and apart from them, the staff and us seven clients - GDBA speak for dog owners - there's not much else here at the centre. To their credit the association acknowledge this and in the literature sent out to us prior to class, they included the following advice:

"Although you will be working with your dog every day, there will be long periods of time when you will not actually be required for training so it would be advisable for you to bring some books or handicrafts to fill in your spare time."

I was staggered when I first read the word "handicrafts" in that sentence, because it invokes one of the worst and most hackneyed stereotypes about blind people and basket weaving. Unfortunately though, it does give an accurate impression of the ethos behind this centre. It's a blind institution and takes me back to my school days at the blind school I was so grateful to leave behind after eight years. Even the food here is supplied by the same catering firm that served up our meals at school! Each day is exactly the same as all the others. Breakfast is at eight, dog's health inspection at quarter to nine, out with the dog at quarter past eleven, lunch at one, back out with the dog at half three and supper at six. Then at seven we all get together to choose what we want to eat the next day. Although I grew up despising this kind of structured regime, I appreciate why it is practical and that it makes things easier for the staff here.

I do have a problem though with the plastic sheets on the mattresses in the rooms (the youngest of us is eighteen and I for one haven't wet my bed since I was about six), the wooden rails on walls for us to hold as we walk along, and the doors with Braille labels on them saying where they lead to, which we are supposed to knock on before opening to warn anyone who might be on the other side to look out. There are wooden barriers to swing open at waist height at the top of every staircase, presumably to prevent us inadvertently falling down the stairs. There is lemon squash to drink in the lounge, and we have to sit in the same place for every meal. Thank God there is a bar here, which opens between seven and nine-ish and sells cans of beer and bags of crisps, where we can sit and chat. But the conversation always ends up being about how each of us is getting on during the day, or the other blind people we all seem to know through blind school or other guide dog owners.

It's an insular and suffocating little blind world in here, which leads me back to last week's news that the Guide Dog Association intends to transform the way it trains future owners. The overwhelming majority of people currently train in regional centres like this one throughout the country, but over the next couple of years the association intends to close these centres and when possible, train people in their own manor. The GDBA claim that they're operating at a loss and with public donations and legacies dwindling, it's no longer economically viable to keep their regional centres open.

The GDBA deserve to be congratulated for their intentions which, following a consultation period, should be gradually phased in. My training, for instance, has taken place in several towns local to the centre that I'll never be returning to again. So now when I get back home and to the places I frequent, I'll have to give Bosley a few more weeks to get used to a completely new set of surroundings. Under the new proposals he'd be getting to know the places I go to regularly, during the training course. Plus the new training methods will mean the end for these antiquated institutionalised centres, which will be a huge step forward.

Most of the instructors who've spoken to us about the association's plans seem to think the new strategy will enable them to provide a more efficient service. The only downside is the fact that the administrative and ancillary staff currently working in the centres will be made redundant. Let's hope they'll manage to find alternative jobs. I'm just hoping my time to experience the new training methods is years away, hopefully when I've finished weaving the basket I started weaving when I got here.