It's All About the Eyes

You (in the UK) might remember that back in the middle stages of the pandemic that we all got in a panic (yes, me included) because when we thought we had the vaccine and we'd  got it beat, along came 'Omicron' (cue dramatic & suspensful music). We built new plague hospitals and called them Nightingales after the heroine of the Crimean war. They were hardly used and cost a lot of money. Two thirds (6000) of the £2,500 beds were sold off, for as little as £6.
Anyway, what I was leading to was that I went for an eye appointment today at the Exeter Nightingale hospital so it was interesting to see this fabled building, converted from a disused B & Q warehouse on an industrial estate.

My appointment went very smoothly and after a very short wait I was processed and passed through the various tests very quickly and efficiently so all was good. Because I was to have those evil drops in my eyes, Marian drove me in. She was planning to do some shopping but had only got to a nearby department store to have a coffee before I was ready to be picked up.


By the time my eyes had recovered from the blurring of those dilating drugs the passing showers had changed to continuous rain so a little cat who had come in from the rain was coerced into modelling his bright eyes.