As part of the process of impending death, there is an increased risk that various parts of me start to fail, pack up or drop off. Given that I'm not particularly focussed on seeking all things medical, I'm quite likely not to notice until it's too late to do anything much about it.
However, my local Health & Safety pixie had been nagging me to have an eye test on HM Revenue & Customs's tab, so I finally arranged one. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I turned up at the branch of Specsavers in Brunswick Square, mentally prepared to be told that, yes, your eyesight is fading, Mr Valladares, and we'll be prescribing a pair of spectacles so that you can peer over them in a disapproving manner.
Except that it didn't work out like that. Yes, aged 45 (and a bit), my eyesight is still perfect. I can still read the bottom line on the chart, and all is well. Well, not all, which is why I've just registered with the surgery in Combs Ford and am seeing them for a blood pressure check on Friday morning...
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