Thursday June 12, 2008
Optician day. I was not impressed with the consultant, or the desk clerk, or the examination. By the time I got to the friendly lady who marked the papers for my preferred bifocal configuration and made up my bill I was too taken up with being unimpressed that I didn’t really do her justice, because she was quiet, confident, and friendly. I get the new spectacles–a pair of bifocals and another plain reading glasses–in about a fortnight and shall save my final judgement until then. As to being a pleasant experience, it was not, and I shall not go back to Boots the Chemist for optical services again. Ever.
I was a little disturbed to find that the unpleasant experience in Boots had coloured my morning tired and grey. Driving to Taunton had been a delight and we went slowly, savouring the landscape and the skies. Driving home to Bridgwater was a heads-down job, and couldn’t come along fast enough.
So here’s to you, Boots the Chemist. May all your troubles be large ones.
Home was at the end of the journey, quietly welcoming, a smile-making place that mended my spirits. It was too breezy for lunch in the garden–note to self: try to have a wind screen around the next garden table–but I sat in the sun by the french doors from kitchen to patio and enjoyed a light sandwich meal followed by a splendid thick-skinned orange from Morocco. Still no wine to complete it, but I shall wear him down, see if I don’t.
In the evening we watched the first segment of the boxed set of A Year in Provence and were captured by it just as we were when it was first broadcast. A long holiday in the Luberon would do me a power of good.
My legs were still pavement-pounded so I settled down on a floor cushion to watch the telly, with my back propped up by Graham’s new cushions. They were not made for that purpose, but they functioned perfectly. The face of the cushions is recycled from an antique kilim which we bought from IKEA years back.
New cushions by Graham