I write this wearing prescription contact lenses for the first time in my life. The brand is Johnson & Johnson Acuvue 1-Day. I chose daily disposables as I'm terrified of getting an infection, I like the convenience, and the brand was recommended as the most comfortable. As if I’m somehow going to plump for the leastcomfortable choice in order to save money. When it comes to sticking a foreign body in one's eyes on a regular basis, I rather feel comfort features highly in the equation.

At the opticians, I swear, struggle and sigh for what seems an aeon as the staff kindly teach me how to stick the things in and fish them out. At the time, it seems difficult to believe millions of people go through this farce every day. Then a few days later I get used to both the process and the sensation, and it's now as easy as falling off a bisexual. Like most things in life, it's just a matter of getting used to it.

I don't intend to wear the things every day, but it's nice to have the option. Some days I’m in a Clark Kent (or, as Mr Gullo remarked, Dr Strangelove) glasses mood. Other times I rather enjoy seeing the world a little out-of-focus. Without glasses or contacts, I can still read books, and my near-sightedness isn’t (yet) prominent enough to endanger my life when, say, crossing the road.

I always think of Dusty Springfield conquering her stage-fright by deliberately giving concerts without optical correction of any kind. She didn’t fear the audience because she couldn’t SEE the audience.

Short-sightedness can also be the forgetful narcissist’s alibi. If I'm on the street or in a large crowded party or club, not being able to see too well can help remove accusations of deliberate showbiz blanking.

"I waved at you, but you didn't recognise me. You've forgotten who I am, haven’t you?"

"Not necessarily. I literally can’t see who you are. Not in this light… without contacts… from this distance… (delete as cowardly applicable)."

In the kingdom of the wined, the short-sighted man is king.