Daniel got his glasses today. The poor little mite is +5 and he must have been blind as a bat. I’ve looked through the lenses and it’s pretty blurry. He finds patterns alarming with his glasses and, if there is a change of pattern underfoot, he is reluctant to walk on it. This is unfortunate given that Brussels is heavy on cobblestones.
He has been very, very good about wearing them all day long and not taking them off. I am not sure whether this is because he is a good child or because he likes being able to see. Tonight when we took them off, his ears were all pink. Does anyone know, is this normal? It didn’t seem to bother him. But again, he may feel that it is the price he pays to see.
NaBloPoMo – J is not a good letter.
J is for Henry James whom I am never going to read because I gather he is all about inner agonising and “The Line of Beauty” by Alan Hollinghurst is Jamesian. And, with all due respect to C (who recommends) and the Booker jury, I found it tortuous. Go on, convince me on Henry James.J is also for Joyce; “Dubliners” is fine but everything else is too hard. J is also for Erica Jong who, I would submit, has not aged gracefully. In fact, the only J which inspires even mild enthusiasm is Jerome K. Jerome and I wouldn’t exactly put “Three Men in a Boat” in my top ten. Slim pickings, people. Any suggestions?
