The eye test

With the wonders of modern medicine, it seems incongruous that the eye test hasn't changed much over the years.  Ever since I've been going to the opticians, it's remained pretty much the same. 

For me, it involves flinching and then laughing as the puff of air is put into both my eyes to test the pressure in order to detect glaucoma.

I have to repeatedly apologise to the person who tries to administer this, because once the first puff of air goes in, my body just reflexes every time and it's virtually impossible for them to get an accurate reading.

Not sure why I laugh - I think it's a mixture of nervousness and embarrassment as I wait for them to get cross and tell me to sit still.  In fairness, this hasn't yet occurred, but it's only a matter of time.

Then it's on to the 80s space invader game - put your head into a machine while wearing a fetching Pirate-style eye patch, and then blast away on the trigger as the little lights flash all around you.

From here, I'm winking, blinking and watery-eyed as I stagger to the optician's version of the Mastermind chair.

Once in situ, it's on with the glasses, and then the 'which looks clearer?' questions as lenses are popped in and out and I can't remember which is which, so it's round and round we go until I just pick one, hoping it's the right answer.  Going on Mastermind and facing John Humphrys would be far less stressful!

'Read the smallest line of print you can without holding it at arm's length' is the next test.  Then there's the bit where the optician gets up close and personal staring into my eyes checking their general health, while I try not to breathe but still think to myself I'm glad I didn't have garlic for dinner last night.

But, as we all know, it's one of those essential tests to get done regularly.  Perhaps one day it'll all be done by lasers or something.