It’s still raining in the flatlands. I think the end of my house is falling off, failing to cope with the land on which we stand slowly becoming a kind of gritty soup.
But I can see clearly because I have finally had to shell out for a new visor.
I’ve seen the world through full-time specs since the age of about 9, and one of the things it teaches you to live with (if you are cack-handed, as I am, and prone to wiping your glasses on a corner of your jumper instead of special lens cloth, as I do) is to look through scratches and scuffs without letting them annoy you.
My lid has been getting more and more scuffed as it lives in a Metal Mule topbox during the day, and sometimes I catch it on the lock pulling it out at home time. It creates an interesting Top of the Pops 1970’s starburst effect in the evenings, but it was endurable.
The two-inch crack that I inflicted dropping it off my seat when I was trying to find my keys in the rain felt like a step too far, though.
So I have coughed the best part of a hundred quid for a new visor and pinlock inner, and after a bit of help from the lovely chaps at BikeStop in Stevenage, the world is transformed.
Maybe I should buy some new specs too….