Are you still here?

Visual imperfections come as standard when you open the box marked Diabetes. Like Pandora's but containing not quite as much chocolate, replaced instead by Boots sugar free pastilles. The old eyes can be roundly defeated by the cavalier attitude of the pugnacious condition. 

So it was then then that the "blood" in my eye posed no real concern: it had happened before, and it would leave of it's own volition in due course.

Except it didn't. I noticed after a few days that there was none of the usual signs of departure. No dimming of intensity, no suitcase in the hall, No keys on the sideboard. The bloody thing (literally) had moved in.

It was like the early nineties all over again. Youthful  discoveries and clandestine hookups were rife in my 1990's London. One moment you were getting ready to go out and boogie with friends, the next you were catching the tube or bus home from some far flung outpost of the capital.

That was how it was then, and we all accepted the protocols. 

Now something had broken the traditional rules of engagement.

I could envisage it making breakfast and reading my newspaper. Soon it would be rearranging the furniture and distributing cheap ornaments around the place. No doubt from EYEKEA?? 

After a week of uninvited inconvenience I threatened to break off what had seemingly turned into a relationship. Visions of us growing old together hove into view. A life of garden centres, comfortable slippers, and pensioner coach trips beckoned.

A tense stand off ensued as I waived my insurance policy threateningly in it's face. It merely wafted on by, with a slightly irritated demeanour. 

However, a quick call to Southern Cross later, and I was soon under the knife of a doctor with more letters after his name than Sir Alex Douglas Haig, KT GCB OM GCVO KCIE ADC.....

Then after much eye squelching, it was all over, and our dalliance restored to normality

Swiftly floating away,  no doubt in time to catch the first available N'eye'ght Bus....