and again



Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra bits in between.


Sunday July 28th 2019


How long ago was it when I posted this message on facebook?


‘I’ve just lost my driving glasses in Highbury. I think they’re in the next meadow along from the car park, somewhere between the car park and the group of three dead trees.I was sitting one of the logs beneath the nearest tree when I last remember having them.They are sort of reddish brown, have openwork and plastic ‘stones’ along the arms. They have lenses which go dark when exposed to light.If you find them, it’d be great to have them back, even if you’ve trodden on them or the dog’s chewed them!

Pat the dozy’


It was only five days ago last Friday. I swore, of course, that I’d not wear the (new) glasses  in the park again before I bought a cord with a strong clasp to secure the blasted things round my neck.

I was so lucky to find them, undamaged, on the grass the next day, that no way would I wear them again without securing them. I’m not that stupid.

Oh yes I am.

On Wednesday and Thursday, we take the dogs out early because it’s so hot. Much too hot for photography. It’s crushingly humid too, so once home I stay in during the day time. I don’t go near anywhere which sells spectacle cords.

On Friday we’re back in Highbury.

I always repeat the same pattern. As I walk something interesting catches my eye, usually something which I could use in a drawing. I’m excited by a shape, a rhythm or just the juxtaposition of things – like this, for example





or this


or this.





I reach for my phone, take off my distance glasses with my left hand and focus on the object of interest.

Once I’ve captured the image, I become absorbed in fantasising about how I might use it. So absorbed, that I forget about the glasses which drop to the ground as I walk off.

We’ve reached the community orchard, almost at the end of our walk, when I realise that I’m not wearing my glasses.

Tolerant beyond the call of duty, Bev takes all three dogs over to a log on the meadow below the orchard while I retrace my footsteps to the beginning of the woodland path.

No glasses.

Neither of us, of course, can recall when I was last wearing them. Bev suggests walking back to the old Italian Garden and searching there.

Isis is puzzled when asked to follow the route again. She’s not keen, but complies. A dog never knows, after all, what its human might do next.

Following the order of the images on the camera roll, I check diligently around the spots I  visited earlier.


This is strange. Then it suddenly dawns on me that I not only removed my glasses to focus on objects, but also stopped to check a text I’d received.

I take Isis back to the car. Fortunately, it’s much cooler today. With the sun roof open she’ll be fine for twenty minutes while I carry out one last search.

It’d be a good idea, I decide, to scrutinise the original path we took from the car park to the beginning of the woodland walk.

Staring at the ground all the way to the Italian Garden reveals nothing. Nor does another, even more thorough, search of the garden.

But about a third of the way along the asphalt path the other end of the garden, I find the glasses.


Unfortunately, I’m not so lucky this time. It’s obvious that someone has trodden on them. The frame is bent, and the lenses have popped out. The left lens is cracked.

In the afternoon I take them to the optician. The right lens appears to be fine, but the frame may not be repairable. All the parts must be returned to where they were assembled. The receptionist will phone me early next week.

Whether they can be repaired or have to be replaced, I swear I’ll not leave the shop without a security cord.

Perhaps an iron chain would be a safer bet.


*Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact or

This entry was posted in a very good dog, Highbury Park, walking my deaf/blind dog, walking with Rufus and Nancy and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to and again

  1. Ian Simkin says:

    Have you thought about welding them to the chain & riveting it to your head?…… 😉


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