AS I head deeper into my seventh decade, I feel the need to focus on something that’s become an increasingly important feature of my life: reading glasses.

Lose them, and I turn into a myopic, grumpy old git, ransacking the house, while blaming anyone in sight for moving them. Forget to take them with me when I go out, and I’m beset by blind panic.

I confess to the time when an ill-tempered hunt for my reading glasses ended with my wife pointing out that they were on top of my head. She could easily have accused me of making a spectacle of myself.

I’m guilty of losing my reading glasses with embarrassing frequency, and it’s reached the point at which my mother has assumed the responsibility of buying me spare pairs from The Pound Shop during her weekly shopping trips.

It’s kind of her to help, especially since she’s 93, but........

© The Northern Echo