M
y face fell: "We'll
have to see about
glasses though, come
back if you have any
trouble reading,
headaches?" Fat
chance, I had thought. "We'll see you again in
10-12 months for an annual check-up though,
hand this in at reception," he had said, holding
out a form. I snatched it and ran from the
room; twelve whole months I thought. It didn't
seem like that long ago now though.
I shuffled down the pavement, half aware of
the bustle and buzz of the public rushing past
me on both sides. Up ahead my eyes swooped
in on the sign in bold green letters, below it the
commercial photoshoots of models wearing
slick glasses by Gucci and Prada plastered up
in thousands of these chain opticians. Alright
for some, it suits them! As I got closer, blurred
images shot through my head; the dark room
with the thin brown carpet, the luminous board
with black and white letters, the big black chair
- like something off Mastermind - but worst of
all, imposing itself on the whole room, that
huge whirring piece of industrial machinery
that shone lights into your eyes. Faint
memories of him saying "Better once, twice, or
when I take it away?" I always got so
frustrated; twice and third looked the same,
and if I chose the third option does that mean
I don't need glasses? After a long pause he
repeated himself, "Better once, twice …"
"Twice," I interrupted followed by a long pause;
"Are you sure?" The whole experience was like
an interview or mind test. I knew there were
no right or wrong answers, but I wanted to
prove that my eyes were good, I wanted to be
right. What if one of my answers contradicted
the other?
I stepped inside the door, everyone else already
in the waiting room. I went to join them, and
James thrust a pair into my hands, he and my
younger brother already going through the box
to see which were the worst. Without thinking
I put them on - I didn't need a mirror - I saw it
on James' face. "Ha, oh dear!" he laughed.
The ordeal after that only lasted five minutes,
now wiped from my memory into a blur like an
accident or embarrassing experience. Having
bluffed my way through, I now had ten months'
freedom ahead of me! The obstacle of glasses
escaped; to them I was just another 15-minute
appointment, but for me it was something
I dreaded for months.
Aluredian
49
Returning
to the
opticians
by
Helena
Winsey,
3rd form
The 3rd form
were asked to
write a piece
on returning
to a familiar
place
Artist book by Martha
Gray in response to
Somerset Art Weeks