Old Egg-eye

Finally managed to get around to going for my long overdue eyetest today; when I say 'overdue' I mean bigtime- last sat in an opticians when I was sixteen and studying had left me eye-strained. On that occasion I looked at some number charts on a wall and left with some very dodgy pink (if I recall correctly, but I am not precise on this) spectacles which sat forlorn in their case until I forgot about them and lost or discarded them along life's rocky road. This time the full force of technology has become available to the eye doctor, who was of course half my age. I really hate it when all the things your mother told you start to come true, especially all on one day. "You know you're old when the doctors look young." *Check* "You'll need glasses if you keep trying to work in that light (true, for some reason I have always preferred twilight for all close work)," *Check* "You'll get piles/varicose veins/cramp if you sit like that," (nothing to do with eyetest but you get the drift) *Check*.

What surprised me is how this experience turned into easily the high point of my day, and when competing with uninterrupted free time to paint and groove to music and a coffee and gossip with good and gossip-ful friend, this is no mean feat! Something in all the gadgets and tricks really had me from the start and it was hard to restrain myself from shouting "Go again, go again!" at the end of each section of discovery. Of course my eyes are very important to me as an artist, so I was drawn in by the new knowledge of their shape, capabilities and frailties; particularly enjoyed the very visual treat of seeing my retina scan like a red river delta in space. Very healthy it is too so that was a good kick off. The next section was a little hairier as I discovered that my left eye, left alone so to speak, is pretty hopeless and can't even read the little letters on the wall chart - I could actually feel it straining away to itself once it lost the aid of its stronger righty buddy. And so the astygmatism test and the somehow exciting news that my little lefty is a bit of a rugby ball shape and sees things in a bit of a 'wonky' way. Optician showed me a helpful image of two church towers, one unright - normal vision, and one wonky - astygmatismatic vision. Suddenly sure that this is the source of all crazy painting ideas, but more likely its the reason I have to really concentrate to get a straight line, should I need one. Mr Egg-eye on solo would give me a bit of a slant every time, bless.

I felt strangely protective of Lefty as I painted tonight and actually stopped while I could still see the board; unheard of - Stu frequently has to turn on the light and surprise me with the novel idea of actually being able to see what I am doing. Weird habit that, no idea why my self preservation is so weak in this department... But no more!

Now I have to wait a whole seven to ten days before I can take charge of my new two pairs of 'sexy secretary' specs. I feel the need to nurture the wee peepers now and can't wait to get specced up. Another strange thing about getting older is exposing your own home-grown urban myths; I have told all and sundry for years that my vision is 20-20, which I realise now has no basis in truth and never has had - a figment of my own mythology creation system...

Read a thing about that the other day in the Metro actually which suggests that we all harbour 'fake' memories from early years which for some reason our brains just make up. Like the friend you have (I have anyway) who believes that she could fly as a child; not dreams of flying, but actual memories; why would we do that? Ever since then I have been racking my brains to unearth interesting and fantastical fake memories buried in my brain, but to no avail. Maybe I left it too late and now my age-faded memory has gone and forgotten them, dammit!

Better scoot before Mr Egg grows weary of staring at this unnatural light. Bon nuit.