As I commence this second narrative of the day, I’m sitting in an eatery on the food/drink mezzanine area at the White Rose Shopping Centre. Around twenty minutes ago, I became the recipient of a sharp new haircut; consequently, I’m now bereft of the bizarre kiss curl that’d become my recent unwelcome fringe trademark.

This unintended hair accoutrement giving me a look of an out of shape, but less anxious, Clark Kent….. When adorning my specs anyway! Shorn of my gigs I looked equally out of shape and anxious; bizarrely, though, the removal of my sight correction attire the catalyst to an apparent facial metamorphosis rendering me unrecognisable.

A situation which became apparent when earlier a waiter approached my table, shortly after I’d removed my glasses to rub the bridge of my nose. On reaching me he asked “Have you any idea where that fat guy went?!”

Looked around frantically for this ‘mystery’ bespectacled chap, he further added “You know, the wearing specs who was sitting here a few minutes ago went?…… The cheeky get left without paying his food bill!”

This interaction a catalyst for me to re-evaluate the fairness of my past cynicism relating to Lois Lane’s inability to realise Clark Kent and Superman were indeed one and the same. Could this incident be indeed proof that removing a pair of spectacles really does actually provide you with a markedly different facial identity. A ‘thing’ allowing it’s benefactor to at a whim live an existence by stealth.

After I replaced my specs, on realising his identification error, he sheepishly apologised before muttering what sounded like “Four eyes!”, prior to returning to the kitchen area. From that cuisine then came a raised voice berating a colleague with “He’s not run off at all without paying!….. He merely took his gigs off for a few minutes, you idiot!!”

This verbal engagement leading me to ponder the endless possibilities for mischief if achieving a new identity by removing your gigs really was a thing!….. If you didn’t wear glasses, quite clearly other stealth strategies would be required. Moves such as perhaps acquiring Griffin’s secret of invisibility, or the simpler option of wearing a false Groucho Marx mask. The latter disguise used by generations as a highly effective way of maintaining their anonymity.


Anyhow, with glasses firmly lodged on my conk and identity clear to all and sundry, I’ll proceed with this second essay of Friday 9th August 2019. A task made increasingly uncomfortable from the White Rose Shopping Centre (WRSC) glass centrepiece roof contributing to temperatures in my immediate vicinity similar to those in the greenhouse at nearby Temple Newsham’s rose garden…… As I feel as though I’m going to melt, perhaps I’ve inadvertently stumbled upon yet another way to attain different facial aesthetics.

This botanical climate eventually becoming so uncomfortable I packed up my laptop, drank the remains of my iced Americano coffee, heading towards the exit, and my onward car journey to the Wakefield suburbs.

On my way out of the WRSC, I misguidedly thought I’d test the apparent facial metamorphosis which earlier rendered me unrecognisable after removing my specs. Foolishly taking a t-shirt from a shop without paying; removing my glasses as I exited in an attempt to fool security staff.

Does anyone know a good solicitor?!!

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