It was my birthday last Friday.
First of all thank you for the many good wishes that came in to the show via text, Facebook, Twitter etc.
It was very kind of you. I hope to have many more!
The Dark Lady had been plotting surprises. This in our family is for some reason known as "squirrelling".
At about eleven I was whisked off to a large shopping centre to the err opticians.
She had booked me an eye test!
Before you head down the "she's trying to improve him" route, let me stop you there.
What she is dealing with is a husband who is the definition of slack. The acme of inertia. On my days off I can make boulders look animated.
What she had cleverly arranged along with the treats was a brilliant way of getting stuff done that I had been putting off for weeks or in some cases months.
The eye test was to ascertain my ocular prescription. I need some new "readers". The ones I have are the £2 from the hardware store type.
I don't like eye tests for the same reason I'm not keen on dental visits, nor trips to the doctor. You just KNOW they are going to find something wring and it will probably be fatal.
So a phone call to the other branch where I had a test in March and we had the information we needed. (+2 dioptre fans!)
So now the challenge. The frames. It was about noon. I asked the salesman what time his shift finished.
"You could be with us for most of that time. We're going to start top left and try them all on!"
So we worked through style by style until we had narrowed it down to three or four.
I've always gone for wire frames in the past. However, things have changed and we are looking more at heavier frames. Not talking Elvis Costello or Harry Hill here, but not frameless either.
In the end we plumped for two pairs which are now being made. The also rans we classed as "Norwegian geography lecturer" in style. A half-plastic half-wire pair were also rejected as "Madmen meet the second gunman on the grassy knoll!"
If you saw them you would know exactly what I meant.
So, an entertaining hour with a lot of laughter and a job had been completed.
Then it was off to the hairdressers. I have long hair. I like it. It is mine. It is not a rinse and so far it isn't dropping out. So whilst I have it I'm going to flaunt it.
As importantly, DL likes it providing it doesn't get too straggly and I end up looking like a model from your local high street branch of "Modern Hobo".
I have often voiced my concern that having your hair washed and cut often involves having your head massaged by a woman young enough to be your granddaughter. So terrified am I of appearing a dirty old man it can be months in between trims. If your wife is your chaperone, there is no chance of looking like an old letch.
So wash, cut, head massage, glass of sparkling mineral water and a flick through a couple of glossy magazines full of Teevee people and slebs who I have no interest in and it was on to the next squirrel.
I was getting hungry by this point...
Part two tomorrow!