My optician was called Mr Humphreys. It was so hard to resist the urge, when shown into his room, to say, 'Are you free, Mr Humphreys?'
Is it me or does everyone feel as if they're back in school when they go for an eye test?
The pressure is on to get the right answers. It's fine when he responds, 'Good,' but then the inevitable moment comes when you have to say which circle is the darker and it's, 'um, um, the right one? Maybe?' and he says doubtfully, 'Okaaay.' Then puts different glasses on you to test if you're lying to him.
But I was doing okay until he brought up on the computer screen the pictures they'd taken of the back of my eye. He could have just said, 'Fine,' but no, he felt the need to explain it all to me.' This dark spot is where the front of the eye is and this is an artery and this a vein.' Far too much information for a woman of tender sensibilities. Get me out of here!
But I'm pleased to report that my eyes are fine - or at least they haven't deteriorated any more since the last test. At least not enough to warrant new glasses.
And the receptionist, when I paid, pointed out that I had £28 worth of Boots points on my loyalty card. 'You should treat yourself,' she said.
I didn't like to say that I had never managed to work out how to exchange points.
That and I'm a serial point collector. I have thousands of Sainsburys points that Daughter keeps telling me I should spend.