I didn't see that coming

I've worn contact lenses since I was 18 years old.  I got them so I could catch the ball better when playing rugby, but quickly realised that my butter fingers were more responsible for me dropping it than my eyes.

I've had glasses since then too but rarely wear them because I look every bit as silly as you think I might.  I don't do hats for the same reason.  Nor sunglasses (not that there's a great need for sunglasses when you live in Leeds).

I've now entered that tragic "needs must" stage of middle age.  All sorts of bits are falling off and the few powers I once had are beginning to wane. That includes the ability to read without screwing my eyes up.

I never understood why people wearing reading glasses often looked over them when talking to me.  Maybe, unlike me, they thought they looked cool and regarded their specs as a fashion accessory.  But over the last few months the reason became more clear (unlike sentences on a page).

I first noticed my diminishing up-close vision when I was trying to decipher the cooking instructions on the side of an SFC bargain bucket.  (The "FC" stands for "fried chicken" but it comes from Morrisons so the "S" doesn't stand for "succulent").  The bucket had white writing on a red background (just like in Kentucky, so not a coincidence) and I couldn't make it out.  Over subsequent weeks, I continued to struggle with reading non-black letters on non-white backgrounds. One particularly embarrassing moment came when I misread how many units were in a bottle of wine, drank half a glass too many and fell over.  (Always drink responsibly, kids).

After careful consideration and a further period of denial, I decided it was time to head to Specsavers to book an appointment.  On the way, I called into the local Sue Ryder charity shop to buy Charlotte a set of cat ears (pretend ones) after she left hers behind at a music lesson.   And I noticed one of those spinny stand thingys displaying a selection of "readers."  They ranged in strength from -0.5 to, well, it was very difficult to read.  But I found a pair that made a positive difference after testing them out on a children's book (which Charlotte got instead as they didn't sell cat ears.  "Never have done," declared the assistant, arms folded ).

And how much, pray tell?  £2.  Brand new.  £2.  (So I bought some more stuff because I felt bad).

I suspect they make me look like this.

But I've not looked in the mirror with them on as yet.  I've been far too busy going through our wine rack and marvelling at how much each bottle differs in strength.  That, and sorting out the kids' chicken suppers.

But my new reading glasses have definitely made my life just that little bit easier.

This weekend, I plan to return to the Sue Ryder shop to check out their man wig collection.