Before you read on, stop for a moment and imagine what it would be like to be blind. Unless you're cheating, you should have stopped reading by now.

Now imagine you are deaf not much fun. Now imagine you are deaf and blind. Bad luck indeed, but think about all the practical implications of that, not to mention the physical, mental and emotional ones.

Even the simplest things, things we take for granted every day, would suddenly become major trials: going to the toilet, making a cup of tea, making a phone call. All these would be problematic. And what about the enjoyable things in life. How would you communicate with loved ones? Tell someone you were happy, in love, go for a walk on a sunny day?

This is the world Annabel lives in. For her it is all day, every day. She is 24, but has the face of someone much older. She is deafblind and attends the Anne Wall Centre, in Hyde Close, Barnet.

The day centre for adults, run by deafblind charity Sense, teaches and helps people with differing degrees of deafblindness to lead as normal a life as possible.

Annabel travels there every day in a taxi from the home she shares with her mother in Hammersmith, west London, a 16-mile journey. She is accompanied by a member of staff from the centre. There are 26 full-time workers in all, about one for each visitor.

According to centre manager Graham Nolan, people are either born deafblind, in which case it is said to be congenital', or they develop the problems later in life as a result of an illness, an accident or ageing, so-called acquired'.

Annabel is congenitally deafblind. She contracted rubella, also known as German measles, when her mother was pregnant. Rubella is one of the major causes of congenital deafblindness.

About half the 23 men and women who regularly use the centre at the moment are functionally deafblind', that is, deaf and blind to a degree that they have no, or virtually no, capacity to see or hear.

Like many deafblind people, Annabel is not only deafblind, she has another impediment learning difficulties. But she is not functionally deafblind. According to Graham, she has limited sight and hearing and so I can interview her through Graham, who uses sign language to communicate. It is a humbling experience and apparently she likes the limelight' of an interview.

"Annabel recently gave a presentation at a deafblind conference and did very well," says Graham.

He relates to her in sign language what he is telling me, to which she responds with a mixture of hand signals, groans and facial expressions.

It is not clear if she has really grasped what Graham is telling her, but that is the thing with deafblindness: even if she has understood, it is hard for her to communicate that back to us.

"She works in an office, doing things like photocopying," Graham continues. "She really likes that. She loves the money as well. She likes going shopping, having a coffee and a chat with the girls. She also enjoys meeting new people. She likes doing art projects as well and likes to be active. You also like going to St Lucia with your Mum.

"She uses photos and symbols to communicate. It can be very difficult sometimes to describe what's wrong. She could be in a lot of pain, but can't tell us what's wrong. That's where the symbols come in. This one, for example," he says, pointing to a head with what look like small lightening strike drawn above it, "means: I've got a headache'.

"She really enjoys working, it makes her feel valued. She does incredibly well really. Without her hearing aid and glasses she would not be able to do anything, but she copes a lot better than a lot of people would if they had her level of disability."

Having at least partial hearing and vision puts Annabel at an advantage compared to those using the centre who are functionally deafblind.

Take Richard, for example, who I watch feeling his way to the toilet. In the absence of the power to see and hear, the other senses take on even greater importance.

Touch both giving and receiving says Graham, is a key weapon in the armoury of a deafblind person. At the centre a lot of the facilities and activities are organised with this in mind. A physiotherapist is in attendance and there is a hydrotherapy pool. Touch can even enable a deafblind person to enjoy different types of music. How so? Through a device which is simple, yet hugely effective.

Take what is basically a big speaker, big enough for several people to sit comfortably on at one time, and place something akin to a school gym mat on top.

With the base of the music be it classical, reggae or rock turned up, you can feel the different rhythms and beats vibrating. For a deafblind person this amounts to listening' to music.

Admittedly, to you and I, that would hardly be a substitute to listening to music as we are accustomed. Moreover, it is hard not to feel sympathy for Annabel and Richard as they struggle bravely to carry out the most mundane of tasks.

But as Graham points out, we people with the full use of our faculties tend to judge people with any disability from our own position as, more or less, perfectly healthy beings. For those people born deafblind, the truth however harsh it sounds is that they do not know any different.

Graham said: "You have to judge things on their terms. I believe people here enjoy their lives, but on a different level. What we would find boring is not necessarily boring to them.

"Remember, touch is their main form of communication. So for example, they might find something like a hand massage really stimulating. Just to experience things like a jacuzzi, or human contact. If you're looking at quality of life, they might do some work in a local pub or meet someone they really like. It's not a bad quality of life."

This week is deafblind awareness week. For more information on Sense and deafblindness, call 020 7272 7774. or visit www.sense.org.uk