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It means I now have to exclusively rely on what I know in my head and what I can feel with my hands, body or cane. Interacting with the outside world can be very difficult and bizarre, so when I step outside my front door for a bit of lone travelling, it is a real adventure.

When I first became deaf, getting around was a big challenge. It was made worse by people telling me that since I'd always been blind, it should be easy. Not so. I was used to relying on sounds to orientate me - the rumble of escalators, voices, footsteps, traffic, public announcements and all the other everyday noises out there which can be extremely useful. Suddenly, I had to find ways to manage without audio clues. It took some time, but I did it.

Every post, fence, kerb and crack in the pavement took on a new significance. Most people were glad when the local council repaired a pavement full of bumps and pits, but I was mildly annoyed because I got lost: the tactile cues that I depend on had all gone.

When waiting for a train, I feel the wind as it approaches and the vibration of the platform as the carriages draw alongside before attempting to get on. Once on board, I count the number of station stops so that I know when to get off. The doors open at each station, which give a breath of slightly fresher air, and this is how I tell the difference between a station and a signal stop. Sadly this method doesn't always work, particularly on crowded tubes with sweaty bodies obstructing the air flow.

Crossing roads is interesting too. As I can't see traffic, when I cross I have to either go for it - taking the risk of getting squashed - or wait for assistance. But who's to say that getting assistance is any safer? I learnt quickly that getting around without vision and hearing is fairly easy. The biggest challenge is other people.

Most people cannot understand that someone can be both deaf and blind. They see that I'm blind so they assume I have supersonic hearing. They don't know that my red and white cane indicates that I'm deafblind. When I tell them, they can't get their heads around it.

Sometimes people tap me to get my attention. I try to work out what they might be saying based on where I am. If I'm standing on the tube, I take a guess they're offering me a seat and tell them verbally that I would prefer to stand. Then I try to explain how they can communicate with me: by putting my finger on letters on a Braille/print alphabet card. Most people just keep on voicing. Others put their own finger on the Braille dots. Some eventually get that I'm deaf, but then forget I'm blind and think that I cannot speak. I really confuse people, it seems.

One such person told me to show him on the map which station I was travelling to. But at least the people who tap me to get my attention are starting in the right way; many others frequently get it very wrong from the beginning.

Sometimes on my travels, I get off a train, only to be grabbed and pulled back on by a person who assumes I want to catch it. Other times I am bundled onto completely the wrong train. My protests, verbal and physical, are ignored.

When this kind of thing happens, I am regularly dragged a short distance before I break free. This normally disorientates me. When I try to communicate with someone to help me re-orientate, of course they don't get it.

I often wonder what fellow travellers think or voice when either I fail to respond to them speaking, answer inappropriately, or when I repeatedly attempt to explain that I'm deaf and they must communicate with me using a Braille alphabet card. Sometimes I get a little insight into this from my friends.

I regularly travel by tube to King's Cross station, where I meet a pal. When she arrives, she's frequently finds a small huddle of people debating what they should do with me because I've ignored them when they offered me help - well, if they speak to me from a distance, how am I supposed to know? Sometimes, as my friend approaches, they tell her that I cannot speak. Perhaps it's best that mostly I don't know how people react.

When I first became deaf, I felt ill-prepared to get around without sounds. Two years on, I know that's the easy bit. What I was, and still am, ill-prepared for is the challenge of dealing with other people. The things that are done to me as a deafblind traveller are frustrating, sometimes even dangerous or frightening, but at the same time often amusing. One other thing is certain, travelling as a blind person is totally different to travelling as a deafblind person.