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If I go out one more time with the wrong glasses on…

… I’ll maybe need a different sort of prescription to deal with the consequences.

Yes, it’s great to have a pair of spectacles which are good for reading books, laptop work and occasional looking up at visitors to my desk (if there ever were to be any apart from the cat and Mr J, neither of whose eye I really need to catch). I forget what they are called, but they have proved to be an excellent choice.

But the flexibility these specs bring me can often result in me using them for long periods of time – most of the day. Accustomed as I have been for many years now to using varifocals, I am reliably able to negotiate stairs and other mixed-distance hazards whilst wearing both types of glasses. My distance vision is still pretty good (it used to be excellent and was one of my superpowers at a time when I was not aware how precious such superpowers can actually be), and I probably automatically peer over the top of these special work specs when wearing them around the house. I know I’m not supposed to wear them when walking around, but consider this to be a minor transgression, forgive myself and keep on doing it.

However, in the past month or so I have regularly found myself halfway up the next road before realising that I am wearing the wrong pair of glasses. Stuff them into my pocket and carry on, not really a problem, just annoying. Another sign of the approach of senility, stupid forgetfulness and mild inconvenience when I need to check my Fitbit or the messages on my phone. 

Yesterday I did a huge supermarket shop – a special treat for me, which had previously seemed to cure a lingering headache although sadly this time did not work so well in that regard. Much to my astonishment I found myself at the top of our road in the car, blinking in irritation that the bright sun shining obliquely across the tarmac had blurred my vision even after I’d got back into a shady bit. No, in fact I was driving the car wearing ‘the wrong glasses’. This was a first! And slightly more inconvenient because, although I could still easily pass a driving test sight test without any specs, the checking of dashboard instruments is harder without the close focus lens. Mind you, on the short trip to the supermarket, the only instrument I might need to peruse would be the speedo and, to be honest, the traffic is so bad and the street furniture so plentiful that there is little opportunity to exceed the speed limit at this time of day.

I will have to create a detailed checklist for use before every foray outside my front door. I am already checking for outdoor slipper-wearing. I can get halfway to the railway station at the end of the road before I remember to do this though, so my nearest neighbours may be in for a treat at some point.

As it happens, such forays are being curtailed at present due to the onslaught of multiple limb/joint pain. I am almost pathologically unable to rest, and have no real idea whether these aches and pains will be improved by inactivity or made worse. I simply cannot bear to engage with my GP again right now to ask, and have been unable to self-diagnose online (paranoid hypochondriasis, anyone?). I still haven’t quite forgiven him for telling me I mustn’t take my headache medicine any more. Having survived the whole of January without it, I am pretty definitely no better than before. I seem to have the same number of headaches, but now they are not actually going away because I’m taking no medication. So I seem to be in a worse position, although I suppose a debilitating stroke is less likely as a result of giving up the triptans. Who knows?

Still, cheer up! It looks like Spring outside, a slightly larger proportion of our elderly radiators is working than was the case last week (due to chatty plumber’s intervention on Saturday), and I’ve just been reminded (by writing about my fear of going for a walk in my slippers) that last week I was walking in the RHS garden at Wisley behind a woman who was wearing non-matching leather boots. Both were black and had the same sort of heel, but one had a tan leather panel and the other did not. This could, of course, be a new trend that I should look out for on social media, but I rather think it was someone of a similar ‘certain’ age as myself (but with more boots) who had rushed to finish her outfit in order not to annoy her other half any further before popping out for their walk and lunch, and then had to style it out having decided to commit once they had merged onto the A3.

There but for the limited shoe collection go I!

(Maybe boot lady was also wearing the wrong glasses.)

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