I have, it must be admitted, been denying the onward march of time for a while now. And, of course, being human, and made out of skin, bones, and stuff, bits of me are likely to wear out at various points. At least, that's the theory. It's the practice that I have attempted to deny. But, at 48, I have managed to avoid the need to carry around very much stuff with me, and having retained my eyesight intact all of that time, spectacles are something that hasn't gotten in the way.
Most people's eyesight tends to fade a bit as they enter their forties, yet until now, I had been very fortunate. But recently, my close range vision had been becoming a mite fuzzy. Not horribly so, but enough that I could notice it.
Of course, being male, and rather stubborn, I would normally choose to ignore the problem and hope for it to go away, but I really didn't feel that I could on this occasion. I have a lot of study to do, and there is nothing to be gained by making it any more difficult than I need to.
And so, on Saturday morning, I had an appointment with a local optician who shall remain nameless (unless sponsorship is a possibility), where a very polite young man explained that my distance vision was still exceptionally good (he may have been being kind, but I don't think so) but my short-range vision was past its prime. Reading glasses were prescribed accordingly.
Again, being male, I have very little design sense (you've seen my collection of vivid shirts, so you know that I'm not being modest), so Ros was retrieved from her tea and newspaper, and choices were made. After some experimentation, two different frames were selected, and my new accessories will be ready for collection next week.
All I have to do now is;
- Remember that I have them, and;
- Try not to lose them.
I have picked frames that allow me to peer over them at people in a disapproving manner, which is something that I've always had a yen to do, so it's not all bad, is it...
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