Glasses

I lost my glasses, last night, somewhere between my AirBnB* on Mornington Crescent and King's Cross, where I met up with Ash and John before the Kincaid/Creep Show gig at Scala.

I had mixed emotions about losing them. I mean, I hate losing anything. But then, I hate wearing glasses. Or, more accurately, I hate needing them. So there was a feeling of liberation, too; I was freed from the shackles of the spectacles. Except, you know, I need them**.

So many times, last night, and so many times, this morning, I found myself reaching for my glasses only to feel frustrated that they weren't there. The additional struggle of doing my German, last night, the irritation that I couldn't check this photo after I'd taken it, this morning. 

Thank God, then, for the twenty-first century where, despite its innumerable and increasingly incredible drawbacks, one can go into Superdrug and buy a pair of specs. 

*You rarely get breakfast, though, do you?
**There's an analogy for Leavers here.

****
No scales
Reading: 'In Aleppo Once' by Taqui Altounyan