Specs In The City

So I got myself some new spectacles to cope with the wonky eyesight. My first pair of varifocals and they weren't cheap, despite the alluring offer of two pairs for one. Still, I avoided the common boxy style and went for something more curvaceous. People were saying complimentary things and that also eased the financial blow.

Anyway, my working life is so fierce that I was quickly immersed in other issues. Despite the best efforts to be ruthless with time, the clock always defeats the day and the evenings are a weary add-on. On Wednesday night, though I was on the bike and getting home before dark, confusing the family with my early arrival. Then I noticed something . The new glasses weren't in my jacket pocket.

I had to get back on the bike and to retrace the journey back into Belfast city centre. And I found them on the kerbside on the Albert Bridge. They had fallen out, and yes, it had been dumb to carry them in my pocket. A series of cars had crushed the stylish design and there was an absurd moment when I picked up the mangled legs and the busted frame and wondered if a repair job was possible. Not even Jack Duckworth and a giant roll of sticking plaster could have achieved this.

So I returned to the shop where I bought them and produced the shrapnel of my once stylish spectacles. They looked genuinely sorry for me. But they didn't promise much. Once again, I have learnt that when you cross over the line between busy and manic, your productivity and human ability to function is severely warped.