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Friday, February 02, 2007

In my experience, the best preparation for an early morning eye test is to let Lisa set the alarm, leave the switch in the wrong position, and get up 35 minutes later than planned. And I'm pleased to say that's exactly what happened. Strange how when I don't want to get up early, the alarm goes off anyway. You'd almost think it was deliberate. The good news though is that Lisa had agreed to come with me to the optician, so I wasn't alone running up North Street at three minutes to nine, shouting "8:55 was the only appointment they had - if we miss this one I might not see another!". I don't think she got the sight-related pun.

A Sight For Sore EyesBut anyhoo, I'm pleased to say I have twenty-twenty vision. Well, nineteen-nineteen. With the wind in the right direction. Having worn glasses every minute of every day from the age of 16 to 25, I bought the book on the left, threw my specs away, found I couldn't see to read, got them back out of the bin, and started daily eye exercises. Three years later, my eyesight had improved so much the optician told me I could legally drive without glasses, and needn't bother with them any more. I ignored him on the grounds that they make me look more intelligent when I'm behind the wheel, and therefore less likely to get lost.

But four years on, yesterday's eye test has revealed that my sight's improved even further, my left eye is virtually normal, and in the words of the ophthalmic assistant (ie. girl on the desk), "you can see extremely well in the dark". I replied "Maybe I should get a night job!". She stared at me blankly. I gave up. So my vision is verging on the crystal clear and I have no particular need for glasses. But is that going to stop me ordering a pair of expensive designer specs to make me look cool at social gatherings? No, of course not.

Buoyed by my success at the opticians, I then went appointment crazy (or appoint-mental if you prefer) by popping into the dentist on the way home and booking myself in for a check-up. They immediately called my bluff by offering me 9:20 this morning, but I put on a brave face and accepted. I'm now back from the mouthman, and still alive. Mainly due to the fact that according to my dentist, the government have run out of money and he can't afford to take out my dodgy wisdom tooth on the NHS until May. So if we can vote in the Tories by April, I might not have to get it done at all.