Between the Window and the World

Window Observations

Looking out of my window again this morning, the story remains the same. On the second floor by the window sits the man I wrote about over four years ago. However, for the first time, I saw him eating. It might have been some fruit, as he was using his hands, and what looked like a large potato wedge might have been cut from an apple.

Blog - Coronavirus streets in Manchester - XLII

Surely my eyesight can't be that good, yet I cannot doubt my powers of observation. Brian, on the other hand, seems to have sent another pair of reading glasses to the ocular orthopaedic hospital, one leg lost to the incident of backside indiscipline. No other excuse could be manufactured on the fly.

Blog - Thought Picnic: Sitting pretty and bringing calamity

Anyway, back to my neighbourhood. There is a new arrival who steps out of the apartment, takes a few puffs of her inhaler, then lights a cigarette. How you could clearly have a respiratory condition and then compound it with the gradual destruction of your lungs is a case of utter bafflement that escapes me.

Beyond the Window

As I stepped out to attend church, it was minus four degrees Celsius, but fresh and sunny. By the time I left church, it had snowed, the ground coated white. I was fortunate to have the right kind of shoes on, the soles with ridges that gave a sturdy grip enough to stop me from slipping.

It was already above zero. After a cup of lapsang souchong tea, I was ready to have a nap. The man at the window was back, taking another glimpse of what might be unchanging but for the traffic, yet exciting enough as a variance to routine.

Then again, as he observes his little world from that window, a flurry of snow seeks to obscure my line of sight. Life continues for all, but I'm blessed to experience a bit more by getting out and meeting people.

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Leaving there for retrieving here

Unpuzzling the puzzle

Daily, I attempt two puzzles as early as possible, first, I do the Wordle which I now have a maximum and current winning streak of over 300 and then the Sudoku app on my phone at the Expert level of difficulty.

This mental exercise is useful and interesting, especially the Sudoku I strive to solve without error. Yet, there are times I make a mistake or two, which can happen, but what annoys me is when I make an obvious mistake, being blind to a number already in a row or column more than in a 3-by-3 box, at other times, it is the fat-finger; clicking on a number other than the one I intended.

Seeking the seeing aid

It is the presence of mind or the absence of thought and the battle to retain some sort of control of things and usually a lot appears to be totally out of control.

For instance, I was looking for my second pair of eyeglasses, a quest I embarked upon over a month ago without success. I had looked in every box, every bag, my travel suitcases and anywhere else you will not expect to find eyeglasses.

Now, I have so many eyeglasses cases around my apartment, it is a litany of experimentation and history apart from the letter that arrived last week reminding me of the need for a new eye test. While I had not given up and Brian was encouragingly suggesting I would eventually find them; I was getting perplexed.

Preordered for the future

In the gathering of the kit for a role, I formally exited at the end of last month, I looked on a shelf and there were 4 eyeglass cases I did not realise I had put there some time ago. I opened each case, and they had the last two pairs of eyeglasses I had before my current prescription, the third had the pair I was looking for.

My surprise, and again a sense of order that had those cases put apart on the shelf at a time I could not recall, but has now served the purpose intended, easy access if one can just remember where things were put.

Now, I have always prided myself and this is not a knack I had well into adolescence of knowing where I have put something I have handled myself. There is knowledge beyond the sixth sense I need to review to find some things. A calmness of mind, a steading of thought, and a dispelling of anxiety or worry are all necessary to gain that new insight, but I sadly do not use it enough to my advantage.

The eyes have it all

Life returns to Manchester

Yesterday, marked the first full week of the easing of lockdown measures with the opening of non-essential goods shops. Returning from church, the town centre was busy, tables and chairs outside for alfresco dining, crowds milling around as if the memories of a pandemic had long been forgotten.

Our penchant for queuing had opened up to a new order, with specific entrance and exit door, walking routes laid out in the shopping centre to help with social distancing, even though some just ignored the signs.

I first visited the public conveniences before going to the opticians. I last had an eye test 3 years ago and the right arm of my lens frame was beginning to disintegrate. The composite 3 layers were coming apart and when I tried to glue the bits together, I had more bonding of my fingertips than the object of repairs.

Fast-tracked on choice

They offered a 4:00 PM appointment which did not sound convenient if I had to return to the city centre to attend, so, I chose an early morning slot for Saturday. Then, I decided to look at the frames display, in the hope that something might catch my eye. Now, literally, all eyeglass frames are made by manufacturers in Italy, we are mostly paying exorbitant rates for brand names, the design aesthetic hardly having much diversity.

I found an O’Neill frame and asked a member of staff about setting it aside for my Saturday appointment, but before I knew it, I was fast-tracked into a consulting room where a whole battery of tests began, reading charts, blurred and clear dots, air blasted at my eyeballs, lights shone into the recesses of my eyes with pictures of blood vessels vivid to be scary, peripheral and field vision, my eyes were so tired after then workout short of popping the eye out and giving it a cold rinse before tossing it in a frying pan of hot oil and sticking it back in the socket.

Seeing everything anew

By the time we were done a good 90 minutes later, I had ordered two pairs of glasses with lenses exhibiting every quality of sight improvement except X-ray vision. The second cheaper pair offered at half-price and to be delivered to my home in about a fortnight. The eye test came free because there is a history of glaucoma somewhere in the family, which requires I return for eye tests annually rather than leave it until when my glasses or frames are falling apart.

I hope I made the right choice, in more convenient settings, I would have sought the advice of Brian before my selection. In the end, he might like them after taunting me about needed two pairs of glasses because there was a time, I forgot I had a pair on and donned another pair, I have never lived that down. Obviously, my comeback is just as embarrassing for him.

Caught in flagrante in Manchester

Simmering and cooling off

I was back in Manchester this weekend literally spoiling for a fight to pick up my glasses which Vision Express expressly did not have the courtesy to expressively inform me of as to the progress in sorting my order out knowing full well that I was from out of town even though after phone calls to them I was told and assured I will be informed but no information came to my notice.

Meanwhile, on the train from Chester, a journey lasting just 75 minutes had me sat in the middle of a crowd I would not have chosen but for the circumstances.

Behind me was a young man in his twenties but with the mental development of an obstreperous 3-year old being chaperoned back home. He got restless, fidgety and kicked violently at the back of my seat everytime the train stopped.

Holding my hair piece

In other circumstances, I would have remonstrated but this was one of those situations where it was just best to live and let live, enduring it for the experience of knowing how fortunate most of us are and how longsuffering their carers might be not forgetting the frustrations of a big man caught in the throes of a small child.

In front, there was a couple of the alternative kind where one in that time had quaffed two bottles of blue vodka and he still had two legs to stand on when we got off the train.

The conductor found time to joke, apparently, Justin Bieber, whoever that is was performing in town and he said he had just heard from the organisers that the concert had been cancelled because Justin had to wash his hair. Much laughter filled the train.

A 419 experience

When I got to my hotel, I was put on the top floor which required the use of steps because it is not serviced by a lift. When I showed the receptionist my cane, he promptly relocated me to a more accessible floor and also close to the lifts. The room number was 419.

I decided on having no breakfast at the hotel, basically, if they could not get mere toast right that it was just toasted on one side, it was unlikely that whatever else they were offering would be up to palatable standards, I had experienced it before – cheap, tacky and avoidable.

Then I made for Vision Express where my first pair was ready and the spare pair was still in the laboratory. I asked to speak to the manager to remonstrate about the lack of adequate customer service.

Appeased with a deal

She arrived with my spare pair which had different lenses from the main pair. That was not what I  had ordered, they were both supposed to be photo-chromatic or as the lingo is nowadays, transition, scratch-resistant and anti-glare – at least in my case, there was no reason for me to order different pairs of lenses if I wanted to be able to interchange glasses.

The change would normally have cost extra but as a sop or some sort of appeasement, they were offered for free though that would mean another visit to Manchester in maybe fortnight.

The rest of the weekend in Manchester was not that eventful, clubs that required membership for me to gain entrance presented a hostile side to the city which should have been catered for with the presentation of a hotel key card signifying I was from out of town.

Hallelujah in my birthday suit

I found a Nigerian restaurant called Hallelujah African Cuisine, when I called to ask about their services, I learnt they will close late because there was a night vigil – maybe, I should pray a bit more over my food, but honestly, these divinely inspired names of businesses that seem to want to double as shrines to the Levitical priesthood are more amusing than to be taken too seriously. I had a good meal there.

We are to check-out of the hotel at 11:00AM, I am usually barely able to do that until maybe 11:15AM but before 11:00AM there were knocks on my door despite the fact that I had a red Do Not Disturb sign on the door knob.

I cannot think of who could have removed it that by 11:10AM before I could answer the door, the lady was in my room and there I was in flagrante deprehensus nuda nudus...