Getting older is a pain. I’ve just been in for an eye test. It’s depressing.
The only good news is that I’ve still got two.
The optician was so young I think he had to rush the test because it was time for his morning nap. I wasn’t sure he really knew what he was doing. He didn’t fill me with confidence.
He asked me if I had noticed any problems. I told him I was short-sighted.
He took me outside and pointed up – ‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘That’s the sun,’ I replied, a little baffled.
‘How far do you want to see,’ he demanded, acting as if I was wasting his time.
Grudgingly he examined my eyes.
‘Do you have a kayak?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I told him.
‘Shame,’ he replied, ‘because you got cataracts.’
The long and short of it is that I’ve got to have new varifocals.
The opticians have a special deal – two for one. That’s good because I’d look silly with a monocle.
I nipped to the bank to arrange a mortgage before the interest rates go up.
I looked at the frames and found a brilliant pair that were bright red, yellow and green. It made me wonder what life would be like if I were single.
I’ll be going back in a week with my restraining half to be told which frames I’m allowed.
I’d be miserable and fed up with this ageing business but my eyes are still too full of humour for that. I’ve still got a lot to learn. But I’ve avid pupils. So it’s optic and jump.