Cracked

When we arrived at Booths on Friday evening I patted my breast pocket to ensure that I had my glasses with me but they weren't there. Frown. I had them I was sure immediately before leaving the office and I hadn't taken them out at the petrol station. Where could they be?

On Saturday morning, having dropped Dan at the train station, I popped into the office but, as I thought, they weren't there. I nearly stopped in at the petrol station in the way home but it was really busy so we popped back later on and, lo, the glasses had been handed in. After, I suspect, someone had inadvertently driven over them. I guess they fell out of my pocket.

The lenses are both cracked and the arms are awry so I looked a bit crackers with them on but at least I could now read when necessary. 

Of course, by this evening, after only two days, I was wearing them without really thinking about it in the same way that I now grin without remembering I'm currently missing a tooth. (Thankfully I made it to Vision Express, this afternoon. New glasses are on order.)

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-10.2 kgs
Reading: 'Frank Derrick's Holiday Of A Lifetime' by J B Morrison