Blurred Vision

Things are heating up at work but my own input was slowed somewhat by leaving my glasses at home. Although I do believe I got by, my ability to skim read documents (which is all anyone does, after all) was greatly diminished. Across the desk an amused TPJ couldn't resist mocking my predicament. "I hope you don't take this badly", he jeered in his thick Welsh accent, "but I always think it's risky to employ pensioners. They're liable to forget so many things, you see".
That reminds me of something I'd forgotten from last night: Mr M had kindly taken Mr C's ticket for the Hearts game. "Where's Mr C tonight anyway" he asked. "London, of course" said I. "He's usually back on Thursdays" said Mr M, genuinely quite puzzled. I just looked blankly at him and shook my head. The old fool.