These are my glasses

My glasses on a table
My glasses sitting on Jane’s desk.

These are my glasses.

I’ve been wearing glasses since I was 8 years old; I was in Primary 4. I remember that because my teacher at that time was called Miss Dickson and over a couple of months she progressively moved me back further and further towards the rear of the classroom for talking.

The reason that I was talking so much was because I realised that I couldn’t read what was written on the blackboard and so kept asking the person seated next to me “What does that say?”. And the further back I was moved the more I talked. It was a vicious circle that was halted by two interventions:

  1. the back wall of the classroom
  2. an eye examination that confirmed that I did indeed suffer from myopia

Since then I’ve been a signed-up and permanent member of the Specky Four Eyes Club™. And before you ask I wouldn’t consider contact lenses for two reasons: first, my eyesight is too bad for contacts (these glasses were partly paid for me by the NHS because I’m so blind), and second, I can’t stand sticking anything into my eyes.

And so, these are my current pair of glasses: a pair of British Racing Green frames made by Lotus (I kid you not) loaded with two seriously heavy lumps of glass:

Left Right
Sph -10.75 -11.00
Cyl 2.25 1.75
Axis 93 120

I’m due for another eye examination soon. Better, worse or just the same? We’ll see, but sadly I suspect worse.

Déjà vu

Déjà vu

So, there is a new film coming out soon (15 December) starring Denzil Washington called Déjà vu.

Called in to recover evidence after a bomb sets off a cataclysmic explosion on a New Orleans Ferry, Carlin is about to discover that what most people believe is only in their heads is actually something far more powerful – and will lead him on a mind-bending race to save hundreds of innocent people.

I’m sure I’ve seen that before.

Wrong flock

Sheep in a field.

As I was driving to work this morning I passed a field full of sheep. Driving past I heard the following thought drifting through my mind:

Hmm… I wonder why they’ve not migrated yet.

Followed closely by this perfectly understandable second thought:

Hmm… there was something not quite right about that thought.

However, I do quite like the image of thousands of sheep journeying south for the winter, clogging up the motorways and boarding ferries at Dover. They could winter in Baabados. Or Mutton Keynes. Or Lambodia.

… I’ll get my fleece!