Humor: In this public space, no one could hear me scream

In this public space, no one could hear me scream

They never warn you about wearing your new bifocals when you use a public urinal.

Instead the women in the optometrist's fitting section say only vague things like: "It might take a bit of time to get used to these, Mr Martin, so you might want to interchange with your other glasses for a few days."

"Nah, I'll be right, " I said foolishly. "The more I wear these new ones, the sooner I'll get used to them."

I have been wearing the new glasses for the past two weeks and I have discovered that if I tilt my head a certain way I can now read quite fine print.

This is very useful for reading the date on my watch without squinting a lot or trying to get my wrist as far away from my body as possible or stopping a complete stranger in the street and asking him to read my watch for me.

I imagine, too, if I were 20 years younger, it would be good if I needed to check the tiny, tiny expiry date on a packet of condoms.

But I have found it has had absolutely zero effect on my ability to read maps in the car.

Oh, I can see the street names more clearly. Fine print is much, much clearer.

But I have come to the conclusion that map makers have absolutely no sense of direction because the maps are still always around the wrong way for me.

My wife, Katherine, who does most of the driving, which is a good thing because otherwise we would get lost much more frequently, says I should not blame my poor eyesight for this.

I am just directionally challenged. "Get used to it."

It is not supposed to be like this.

There is a law of the universe, I think, that men should do the driving and their wives should wrestle with maps in the passenger seat, complaining that it's around the wrong way.

I guess my wife and I are just different. Our X and Why chromosomes got mixed up.

I do have one common male trait though.

I never, ever want to stop and ask for directions.

I guess, in hindsight, I should have asked for more directions at the optometrists.

Should I wear my new bifocals while driving? Playing chess? Reading maps? While working on the computer? What about, er, going to the dunny?

"You mean the urinal, Mr Martin?"

"Um, yes."

"Oh no, definitely put your other glasses on for that/"

I found out why when I visited the Irish Club near my home on day one, drank several glasses of Guinness, and visited the gents on the way out for home.

There is another law of the universe that men should never, ever look down while standing at a urinal lest the downward glance be misconstrued by other men there.

But I could not resist. And no one else was even there. Honestly. I was a man alone with my thoughts and new bifocals, which, in hindsight, was a good thing.

I tilted my head and looked down.

"&**%$#@*" I thought. I might even have let out a little yelp I got such a fright.

I had honestly not seen what I had in my hands before. Well, not for a year or two anyway.

Sheesh, the women in the optometrist's shop should have warned me things might look different.

NB: I called this site Dunno because I kept drawing a blank when I had to put a name to it