Recently I noticed a change in my eyesight. The field of vision seems a little narrower and things appear to be a tiny bit mistier than they used to be. All of which means that the lights will most likely go out sometime in the next year or two.

When I get up in the morning in complete darkness, I give very little thought to my limited eyesight. I know where my clothes are. I know where the kettle and the teabags are. I know where my guitar is. I know how to turn on the radio. Being Vision impaired in my apartment is something of a doddle. It is only when I am heading to the great institution of Chatham Street that it becomes an issue. My regular route involves crossing seven roads. The last two are minor affairs.

So long as I continue to safely negotiate this journey, I cannot foresee any major difficulties, in a manner of speaking.