On Wearing “Specs”
Glasses, Spectacles, whatever they’re called, they’ve been a part of my life ever since I was ten years old. Life suddenly stopped being blurry and, even when I was sat at the back of the class, I was able to read the maths questions on the board. Why it took until I was ten for anyone to realise I was short-sighted, is a story for another day: but, since then, I have always needed “specs.”
For many years, decades even, one pair was fine. My myopia (a posh word for short-sightedness), and my astigmatism (apparently, I don’t see straight lines as straight), could be corrected, and I could focus on what I needed to focus on.
Until I couldn’t. About fifteen years ago, headaches began to feature rather a lot: eyestrain, the optician said. I needed different prescriptions depending on whether I was looking at a view, or trying to read. Varifocals was the answer – expensive, especially when you add in the Reactolite – but, adding it meant I would not need sunglasses (unless I was driving ... so I ended up having to have prescription sunglasses as well, but they live in the car).
For a few years, varifocals did all right. Until I took up writing seriously. A computer screen is not set close enough to be ‘reading’ distance; but is not far enough away to be ‘distance’ distance. So, I now need varifocals for ordinary, everyday stuff; office glasses (i.e. varifocals without the distance part) AND reading glasses for when – like in bed at night – I’m just reading.
Now I am on my fourth pair of varifocals, I have told the optician to forget the reading part. If I need to read anything when I’m out and about, nowadays I just take my glasses off and focus closely on the text. I still use the office specs when I’m at the computer, and my reading glasses haven’t been seen since I moved house back in March – but they lived in the bedside drawer and at bedtime, provided I have angled the lamp just right, it is so often easier just to hold the book that bit closer.
So, there are the sunglasses in the car, the reading glasses which used to be by my bed, and two pairs of specs in reasonably constant use. If I’m sat at my desk for a long period, I usually get it right: I use the office specs (reading and mid-distance) and take the other pair off – the ones I need for out-and-about, where I can focus on mid- and far-distance … like when I’m out for a walk, for example. But there are some days, when I have to deal with things on the computer, and then pop out to the shops, sort out various things to do with the house. Which includes trying to work out what that bang was on the conservatory roof – yes, another crash-landed pigeon – but it seems to be all right as it flies to a neighbour’s roof.
All this means I’m switching (or ought to be switching) between both pairs of glasses every few minutes – sometimes, see the photograph, it doesn’t quite work out and, for a few horrible minutes, I think I’ve lost another pair of specs. Then a writer friend messages about finding two pairs of glasses on his head when he’s editing …
We are writers, this must be normal, mustn’t it?