Thursday August 11, 2005
So, I got to Boston shortly after lunch, not that I’d had any yet, and marched smartly into the optician’s to pick up my new spectacles. Astonishing. After weeks and weeks of blurred vision and of holding books and paper at arm’s length, the whole world, near and far, leapt into sharp focus once more.
“Wow!” I said.
“They’re alright, then?” asked the technical lady.
“Darn right they’re alright.”
“Good. Let’s make them fit properly, then.”
In seconds the angle of the arms had been adjusted to a snug but comfortable fit. Then came the business part, where you have to pay. I haven’t slapped my plastic on the counter with such joy for quite a while.
“Can you recommend the fish’n’chip shop round the corner,” I asked. “I think a celebration is in order.”
I think I misread her when she told me they were ok. I wish she’d come straight out and told me to avoid them. Or that I’d taken time to read her body language which I can see clearly now, saying NO!, loud and clear.
However, the euphoria overcame my normally perceptive self and off I trotted to enjoy a large plate of cod and chips, washed down with black coffee.
And I’ve been trotting ever since, if you take my meaning. At least, I have been until late this evening.
Not to worry, I’m over it now, and the new spectacles are truly brilliant, precisely dispensed and manufactured. You can’t have everything, but the trots are over and the spectacles will go on and on.