Glasses

I finally think my vision has deteriorated to the point I’ll need to wear glasses full time. I’m yet to receive a professional opinion but you know when things in your body aren’t working right. Like when I pulled my groin muscle and was walking round like I had something shoved up my backside.

How do I feel about wearing glasses? Well, that depends. If I can find some frames that suit my face then I think I could cope with wearing them. Perhaps some Clark Kent style black rimmed ones to give me an intelligent yet bumbling fool when in the vicinity of the opposite sex persona. Or some Sven Goran Eriksson style rimless frames which exude stylishness but also come with a huge price tag. Either way things will have to change once I wear them like if I need to run somewhere I’ll have to be mindful of them or they might fall off my beak and get trampled on. Or not forgetting to take them off before I go to bed and could wake up surrounded in my blood because I’d just slashed my eye lids. Or alternatively I could just get contact lenses. The sensible ones I should add not snake eyed ones or pure white ones although they could have their uses.

I shall make an appointment at Boots tomorrow to confirm the state of my eyeballs.


P.S. I’ve decided to change the Blog template. I prefer this one to the old one.

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Yannish couldn’t help but sympathise for all three of them. Even though originally he felt they were responsible for all their own doings. He still thought their contempt for government schemes and set ups wasn’t totally justified but then again this is the first time he heard a story of how someone had fallen through all the check points and safety cushions the government had implicated. They tried to help him in hospital to a certain point but when someone with a greater urgency came in he was usurped from his bed like with no cure to his condition. Is this what is happening to people all over the country? You are diagnosed and treated but because there isn’t enough room, there isn’t enough staff, and the staff that are their do not always have equipment capable for the job so patients have to be prioritised, perhaps categorised on paper or on a computer as to whether they are fit enough to walk out of the hospital without dying or at least collapsing in front of the entrance. The people that are ill are treated but not till they are fully recovered opening up opportunities for relapse or infection. The strain put on the staff must be tremendous knowing that quite possibly they are sending someone to despair for the sake of economics. But it can’t be the fault of the medical staff, they entered the profession to help not to be entangled in a pit fight for the pounds being dropped from above. And what about having his dole money cut off because he wasn’t looking for a job. But he wasn’t looking for a job because of he was depressed. Who does this help? Yannish aware that he didn’t have the entire perspective of it all did know that Conrad is an intelligent man and even though he was depressed from what he just said he knew he didn’t want to partake in anything any more and experience his life through his own way.

Yannish felt a new found respect for the three of them, he thought they were the dregs of humanity but perhaps that was because they were all donning clothes that looked unwashed for weeks and personal hygiene that had probably left their thoughts many moons ago.

“You’re story is very deep and it is something for me to mull over but I’m late for work so I need to go. What beer do you want? Said Yannish finally escaping his thoughts and engaging the present, mainly because a Dragon fly stared buzzing around him.

“8 cans of Stella Artois please.” Said Peter in a civilised tone.

“Ok, I’ll bring them back here on my break, if I get one so now I’m late.” And with that Yannish uncrossed his legs and picked himself up letting the leaves fall away from his trousers, nodded at the three of them and headed off to work through the hedges. He couldn’t help but feel that those people he had encountered were probably the most interesting people he’s met in a long time and decided when he went to work tomorrow he’d leave a little earlier and go over and speak with them once more.


The vagabonds as Yannish called them were in their usual place underneath the bridge with a gas lamp hanging on a near by branch, swaying along which ever way the wind decided to choose. If you stared at the lamp too long it invited the precarious feeling of uneasiness, not knowing whether the lamp will swing off crash to the ground and start a fire or if it would just stay there peacefully rocking with the beat of the elements. George seemed asleep as he was curled up in the foetal position, his head tucked down into his chest his body facing away from Peter and Conrad who seemed to be talking to each other quite feverously their hands up in the almost clashing. Peter noticed Yannish approaching and smiled.

“Well boy how did you do in your last exam? Literature wasn’t it?”

“Yeah it was literature. I think I done ok, but I just kept chopping and changing my mind every few minutes until I realised what I wanted to do.”

“Ahh, I see” said Peter scratching his nose. “Caught in two minds were you?”


“Yes I was, it was all about the madness of Hamlet and at first I thought he was mad but then I started to think about his motives and reason behind his actions started to materialise. He killed people which as you know is one of the sickest things you can do but I couldn’t help but want to think what drove him to it, I wanted to discover the catalyst behind each horrendous action and in the end it changed my original opinion. I just hope I put it all down in a coherent manner.”

“Seems you’re starting to think things out before you make your judgement, not a snap decision.” Said Peter.

“Yes. I’m glad you’re starting to ask questions as to why things are what they are. I mean look at us we look like sub human scum but you can sense the vitality of our human spirits exude from these dirty clothes. Well, maybe not George but he’s still young.” Interrupted Conrad who was rubbing the crustations on his top lip and looking towards George who was now wriggling in his foetal position asleep unaware that the lamp was now swaying vigorously above him any moment ready to submit to gravity and fall. Conrad noticing this picks away the last bit of dried skin from his lip and flicks it to the ground, leans over and unhooks the lamp from the branch. He lays in on the floor and picks up two large stones and lays them either side of the lamp so that it cannot fall.

“What have you three been up to today?” Asked Yannish who decided to support himself by leaning on a nearby tree.

“Well.” Said Peter. “ Conrad and I have been asking for money along the lakeside, you see we found out that people from that area are more generous in parting with their cash than those from near the town area. Seems those folk want you to entertain them before they give you coins they dig from their pocket. What kind of people are they?”

“They’re probably thinking the same thing Peter. Why don’t these two people get a job, why beg for money. Why don’t you get a job or at least attempt to get one? Both of you.”

“How on earth is that going to happen? Just as I thought you were starting to realise that you shouldn’t take everything by face value. If I walk into the job centre asking for a job, do you think they’ll want to help a great big fat ginger haired man with a beard that’s been maturing for 6 months now? They won’t even shake my hand when I reveal from my jacket covered in dirt that’s been collected over many weeks. And even if they did help and took down my details and submitted an application form for me and I got an interview. What will I wear to this interview? I’m perfectly happy to wear this but I don’t think the potential employer would.”

“Now are you able to get the usual Stella Artois?”