The Myopic Pickpocket

Recently, my reading sight has diminishing to the extent that in darker lit environments I require sight augmentation from a pair of specs. This scenario applying even when I’m wearing contacts to correct my distance sight – Lenses which until recently had provided adequate magnification for close-up work.

Subsequently, now when I leave the house wearing contacts lenses I tuck a pair of readers into my jacket’s inside pocket. A solution that, if required, will enable me to read my mobile phone screen or the small print on a can of tomato soup***

*** – For some strange reason I find the small print on tins of tomato soup harder to read than broths of other flavours. Something my optician couldn’t assist with, apart from advocating I stop unnecessarily reading smaller writing on cans, or opt for oxtail soup instead.

Yesterday evening, however, it became abundantly clear this new strategy for countering my short-sightedness wasn’t robust enough. This flaw becoming apparent upon receipt of a text at a gig I was attending, after which I became aware my reading specs weren’t jacket pocket in situ.

As I was convinced I’d taken my gigs to the gig, my initial thought was someone must have picked my pocket. Thankfully, though, before contacting West Yorkshire Police I chose to further analyse the notion I’d been the victim of unscrupulous glasses theft. Analysis leading to the realisation I’d probably been overly hasty at deducing foul play.

After all, my easier to pick trouser pockets contained £50 in notes, my phone and a pack of chewing gum. Surely much more sought after and accessible trophies for a thief than taking a pair of readers from my harder to access inside pocket…… Well, with the possible exception of the chewing gum.

Additionally, it struck me, surely to god a light fingered pilferer wouldn’t have deliberately targeted me for glasses theft. A myopic criminal, bereft of his own gigs, driven to this desperate act through an urgent requirement to read his copy of The Sun. That being said, it didn’t stop me looking around the venue to see if anyone was wearing my specs or had a paper stored under his arm…… Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t.

Mercifully, I also talked myself out of venturing into the toilet to find the potential culprit. This after realising the folly of roaming into a gents toilet and shouting over cubicle doors “Has anyone seen a pair of tortoise shell +1.5 reading glasses?!”

Much to my relief, at this point pragmatism entered the equation. Consequently, leading to me admonishing myself at stressing over an event which wouldn’t in anyway impact my watching of band From The Jam’s performance.

Putting the case of the missing readers to the back of my mind, I explained the situation to my mate Mike, asking him if he’d relay to me the text which had led to the realisation my reading glasses weren’t in my possession.

He took the phone from my hand, glanced at the message and paused briefly before responding:-

“It’s from Karen……. She was just letting you know you’d left your reading glasses at home?”

Is it clearer with the first lens or the second?…… First or second, Mr Strachan.

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