I have got real glasses now – varifocal ones that I will be wearing all the time. I wonder whether Dorothy Parker’s famous couplet men seldom make passes / at girls who wear glasses holds true. On the other hand, I am trying to remember the last time a man made a pass at me. Well, he may have done, but there is a chance I could have missed something on account of bad eyesight. I asked Mr. Signs to accompany me to the opticians as I was fairly sure I would not understand most of what was being said to me, vitality being what it is in late afternoon. Also, I suspected that there would be information to take in and process – you know what I mean by this: the kind of information you have to deal with when trying to buy a mobile phone. One plus one equals two does not necessarily mean what you think it means once you are inside a shop and someone is selling you something. I had to choose from a million frames and take in everything the nice young lady (from Poland, I think) was telling me about how Buy One Get One Free didn’t actually mean that. In answer to “what kind of look you actually are wanting?” I replied, as anyone would, that I wanted to look intelligent but shaggable – or words to that effect. She said titanium frames were best. Certainly they were the most expensive, and I have now spent hundreds of pounds on these and state of the art lenses. The world looks strange. In some respects it is clearer, but I feel unsteady and if I look in the wrong way I cannot see clearly and I am in Lilac Wine:
Listen to me, why is everything so hazy?
Isn’t that he, or am I just going crazy, dear?
But damn, I look hot. And very intelligent.