Bins. Gogs. Specs.
Call 'em what you will, I now have to wear them. A trip to Specsavers today finally proved what I had been told in Kachhwa: I am as blind as a bat.
Had my first suspicions a while ago actually, but ignored it to be honest. India made it fairly obvious: Merv would point enthusiastically to tell me that he had seen a kingfisher dressed in red and green plumage, and I would reply "What kingfisher?"
"In the tree."
"What tree?"
On one occasion we were in Ludhiana preaching on a rooftop to an evangelistic gathering of Nepalese Christians and their friends from the church I mentioned a few blogs back. The sky was filled with kites because it was a festival day - hundreds and hundreds of colourful silhouettes against the skyline. After a while I got fed up with excited cries of "Look at that one!", "Ooh!", "Aah!" etc ...
Not sure how I feel about it yet. So far I am swinging between pleased that everything won't be vaguely blurred any longer, to being somewhat depressed that I am now manacled to ocular scaffolding for the rest of my natural life. Apparently I'm neither eligible for one of those orange parking stickers, nor can I claim Disability Working Allowance. If there is an upside to all of this, I am yet to find it.
I am also reminded of the little ditty taught to us in Bible College:
"No-one makes passes at pastors in glasses".