My head’s bobbing up and down as I write this. I’ve reached the ripe old age of varifocals and they’re taking a bit of getting used to. I knew something was amiss when I reached for my glasses to read a recipe, only to discover I was already wearing them. I could see the onions well enough for slicing and dicing but the fusilli was out of focus. 

I thought I may as well go for the full works at the opticians, just to make sure there wasn’t anything sinister going on. She did the follow-the-dot test, then the one with the letters getting smaller, and finally, I rested my chin on a small shelf and endured puffs of air being blown into my corneas. It took ages to do the air test because I kept blinking and jerking my head back. One woman apparently whooped every time it happened to her.  

I’m short, mid and long range challenged it turns out, so the optician suggested a 2-4-1 deal with one pair of varifocals and a set of readers. It would have made sense to have different frames, so I could tell which was which at a glance, but I already liked the style I had. So now I own four pairs of identical looking specs; two of which are redundant because I can’t bring myself to bin them, one pair with a bit of blue tack on the inside to denote the varifocals and the other perched on the ornamental wooden nose in the lounge. 

My friend bought me a chain for around my neck so that I won’t lose them, but when I tried it on, I looked exactly like Mr Humphries from the 80s sitcom Are You Being Served? I’ve already got the short grey hair, so it wasn’t too much of a leap – and my daughters remain steadfast in their belief that I look like a man anyway. I’m certainly a long way off the sexy secretary trope. 

It’s great to be able to see again though, particularly when watching the news because now I can read breaking stories when they scroll along the bottom of the screen. I’ll be able to understand the second brilliant subtitled French series Lupin too, instead of relying on my husband to give me a running commentary. Also, I had no idea how lovely my flowers look in the garden – they've got petals and everything.  

There are downsides to clear vision, I’ve noticed. The shower head is minging for a start, as is the chipped grouting around the oven. But most disappointing of all is the state of my pores. I definitely need to start some kind of cleansing and toning regime. I might even have to enlist the help of a quality foundation. Perhaps I could pick off some loose bits of grout and pack them with that for a flawless finish? If all else fails, there’s always the rose-tinted option of not wearing glasses at all.