I hate my glasses. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Not just these I’m wearing now, but whichever spectacles I’ve been cursed to wear since, to my horror, I was first told to at the age of 14. At that point, my hatred of them was general, unspecific. They were a source of shame as well as inconvenience. The football field was a blur. Girls, who admittedly had never been much attracted to me in the first place, now lost interest completely.

I developed more specific dislikes, for example the way they steamed up (the glasses, not the girls) when I walked into pubs in winter, still further diminishing my chances of getting served underage.........

© The Guardian