Mindy Hammond

It’s a pretty kettle of fish when Covid lets our columnist off the hook over an extra pair of specs

Some things are inevitable the older we get. We aren’t so keen to compete in a 100m dash as we might once have been, we forget names 10 minutes after hearing them, go into rooms and can’t think why, and we have to wear glasses. Assuming we can remember where we left them, that is.

Whenever I have visited the opticians I’ve ordered three pairs of glasses – one for computer work, another for reading and the third for driving. I don’t need glasses most of the time and don’t want to wear a pair 24/7 because they’d either fall off my face into a muck heap or washing machine or become covered in smudges and scratches when I used them as safety goggles.

But some months ago I noticed I could no longer wear my driving glasses. They made my vision worse and gave me a headache. So I replaced them with sunglasses during the day and drove without them at night.

Then, when my only surviving pair of reading glasses suffered a life-threatening broken arm,

I made an appointment with the optician – with surprising results. Of course my driving glasses no longer worked – my vision in one eye had improved. How fantastic. When ageing is bringing all kinds of negatives, my eyeballs are fighting on and saving me money into the bargain. The optician agreed I should just wear sunglasses when driving – how cool am I?

So I took a new pair of “bins” and set off to meet my friends, Fay and Philip, who had invited me to a fly-fishing day in Hampshire. I left my “working” pair at home and took my funky round-framed ones with me to the hotel for our pre-fishing overnight stay. While reading the dinner menu, my new glasses were admired and as I shared the story of my improved sight, one of our party spoke up.

“Hold on. Have you had Covid?” “Yes, twice.”

“Aha! So have I. And after the second time my eyesight improved. I’ve spoken to several other people who’ve said the same. My optician told me it seems to be quite common.” Well, who’d have thunk…

It may be coincidence, a medical breakthrough or a sign that some of us are wired up wrong, but I was grateful to have one less pair to worry about.

The following morning we assembled on the banks of the River Test with our gillie, Brian, and I was thrilled to be having my first go at fly-fishing. The only item of equipment we were asked to take was a pair of polarised sunglasses to help us see the fish. But either my eyesight wasn’t as good as we thought or I had a rubbish pair of sunglasses, as I could see the fish better without them.

Could I be morphing into a Steve Austin/jaime Sommers hybrid and developing a bionic eye? Probably not. I could see the fish on my side of the river but nothing at all in the water further away.

It was a fabulously sunny day and enormous trout constantly leapt from the water, landing with a loud slap on the surface, as though they were making fun of us. Others would swim up to the lure then meander past. Then the shout would go up as somebody had a bite and Brian would trot off, net in hand, to help land the fish. When I felt that unmistakable pull on my line, I thought I might explode with

excitement. But I listened carefully to Brian’s instructions, letting the fish “run” and only reeling in when it swam closer. I was concentrating so hard I hadn’t even noticed Fay cheering and filming the whole thing.

We all had a successful day, a delicious lunch and went home with our supper. I caught four in total, although I put one back, and one went off to the smokery.

It was the most fantastic and relaxing, yet exhilarating, day and it was only when I arrived home I realised I had lost my new glasses. Probably at supper.

Not so bionically tuned after all, then. What a shame. A few loose wires in the arm would’ve come in very handy for making flies…