I’m not growing old – my eyesight is failing me

My body is just maturing. Nothing major, just losing a bit of hair on my head, growing a ponytail out my ears, sagging bits of the anatomy.

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I am not growing old. My body is just maturing. Nothing major, just losing a bit of hair on my head, growing a ponytail out my ears, sagging bits of the anatomy … the usual stuff, all easy to cope with. Except my eyesight. That’s causing me some hassles.

One of my favourite treats is Dutch drop. For those who don’t know, it’s a very salty, pitch black, hard liquorice. Absolutely divine.

But last week, I ate a piece and it was horrible. Tasteless, rubbery, really unpleasant – to the extent that I actually had no choice but to spit it out. It was either stale or it was some fake drop from China. The printing on the packet was too small for my eyes, so in the bin it went.

The next morning my wife called. Had I seen the tap washers she bought, because the plumber was there to fix all the drips?

From the hysterical laughter, I know this is a story that will be told for decades – at my expense.

A man has to keep his cool

A day or two later I was at a country club. Now I am most definitely not a country club person. I don’t talk about my swing or pretend-kiss or do lunch. I eat my lunch, I shake hands and when it comes to golf, I joke about Tiger’s swinging.

But there I was for an entire day, workshopping with colleagues.

What fascinated me most about the club, was the vast amounts of soap in the bathroom.

At every hand basin, there’s a two-litre pump-action soap dispenser. But with the yuckiest soap. It doesn’t foam, no matter how much you squirt in your palm, and it doesn’t rinse off. It had me baffled.

Turns out it’s actually sunblock. I felt like the village idiot. I’ll probably be the talk of the club for at least a fortnight.

My daughter also fell victim to my deteriorating eyesight recently.

On a visit to a shoe factory in Durban, I bought her the most exquisite pair of pumps. Unfortunately, without my glasses, I can’t always distinguish between an 8 and a 6. You guessed it.

At least she took it in her stride, so to speak, but I have been banned from buying her any more clothing. And for that, I am very grateful.