In what is undoubtedly earth-shattering news, I bought eggs yesterday. I bought these eggs:
Chapel Farm. Free range eggs. ‘From birds that are free to roam’.
This is the type of egg that I tend to buy. While I eat animals and consume animal products, I believe that they should be farmed with minimal cruelty. This means I pay a bit ‘too much’ for things sometimes, but whatever. These eggs are from chickens that know freedom, as much as a chicken on a farm can know freedom.
Inside the container, it reassures us regarding chicken freedom, and tells us all about egg labeling:
And, of course, there are eggs:
Wait. These eggs start with a 3. What’s a three again?
What happened to my free chickens?
I guess what I’m saying is that you should be suspicious of your eggs. And not trust Chapel Farm.
Ten years ago, this happened:
And I touched down, dazed and jetlagged, in London. I found my way to a flat in Swiss Cottage. I learned that I needed to pop down to the shops to top up the electricity. And I’ve been a Londoner ever since.
Since that night, I’ve lived in seven other flats, had two jobs, one marriage, and one child.
A heck of a decade, and a little hard to believe.
Yesterday was interesting.
My second day after sleeping in Ortho-K lenses left me with vision that was good enough to not require correction for most of the day. There was a problem with low-light, though — apparently the correction takes somewhere from a week to a month to be ‘complete’. And there are two things about it:
- It is centred on the middle of your eye
- Your eye slowly moves towards its original (faulty) shape between treatments (sleeps)
None of this is particularly special or astounding, but — when my pupil dilates (low light), it starts to hit the bit that’s not corrected and my vision suffers. This is more pronounced late in the day. Which also happens to be when the sun goes away creating more low light.
I succumbed to low prescription soft lenses around 8:30 or 9:00.
This morning, I have perfect vision in natural light, and better-than-yesterday vision in darker rooms. The quest continues.
Oh, and putting in contacts after eating tacos is dangerous.
But you knew that.
Yesterday morning, I woke up with contact lenses in.
This had happened before, although not since I was a teenager — or perhaps earlier in my university years. Unlike those times, however, I did not wake up with a hangover, a sense of regret, or wondering why I had neglected to take out my lenses the night before. I had done this on purpose, as instructed by my optician.
The night before, I put in my lenses just before bed. Not the soft lenses I normally wear, but special orthokeratolgy lenses which spent the night re-shaping my eyes.
A few hours later, I was removing the lenses for the first time. They came out, and I looked up at my optician — and could see her clearly.
The lenses are now out for the second time, and I am writing this with no glasses on, no lenses in. My vision is still some way from perfect, but I’m told that by next weekend it should be pretty close.
But for the first time since my age was measured in single digits, I am wandering around without wearing corrective lenses. And I can see.
This is wonderful. Eventually, I will get bionic eyes. But for now … this will do.