Can’t see, can’t see

Weekend was ordinary. We did go out on Saturday night to a fine Indian restaurant. That was nice, and we ate way too much. One of the waiters was either charmed by my cute son, or bewitched by my beautiful wife and offered us complimentary drinks.

On Friday I got home from work wearing sunglasses and then realised I’d lost my other glasses. This is a problem for me because I can’t see anything without glasses. So I emptied my bag, went back to the train station, swore a lot, but failed to find my glasses. Thus, I have spent my entire weekend either blind, looking hungover in dark glasses, or wearing multiple pairs of old glasses. This morning however, guess what, I found my lost glasses in the bag I had exhaustively searched 48 hours previously.

The problem now is the fact that I have ordered a new pair of glasses that I no longer need. I phoned the optician this morning to try and cancel my order and I have been promised a call back, but it hasn’t happened yet and I’m starting to think it was an empty promise. I’m giving them until lunchtime before getting mediaeval on their arses. I will update you later.

I hardly ever dream, but occasionally have a vague memory of something going through my head while asleep. Last night The Prime Minister and Angelina Jolie were running around together doing something. What the hell does that mean?

There seem to be moves afoot currently to regulate “lads mags”. The concern seems to be largely down to the photos of scantily ladies on the front covers. Titles such as Nuts and Zoo indeed carry pictures of bikini clad females almost every month. The Co-Op has given publishers six weeks to start supplying magazines in obscure packages, or they stop selling them. It strikes me however that magazines like Vogue, Elle, and Cosmo also have similar images on the cover and no one is moaning about them.

Look at the garlic we grew: