"That's excellent," said the optician. "This is going to be a very quick eye test. Your sight is up to pilot's standard."
"Does that mean I'll be able to fly a plane after this?" said the pig farmer.
"Funny, I couldn't before."
*drum roll* *cymbal* "Thank you, I'll be here all week, try the pork."
As it happens, my sight is degenerating. That's the bad news. The good news is that it's degenerating slower than it should be for my age.
I can't tell you how grateful I am to be a 49-year-old with the vision of someone aged 47.
After a good 40 minutes ("quick"!!) of lenses, computer read-outs, a strange thing that squirts air at your eye-ball, ever-so-slightly uncomfortable places to put your chin, the upshot seems to be that I need reading glasses.
I've ordered some of the half-lens thingies which will let me look sternly over the top of them should I hear something that displeases me, such as a failure of the hop crop, a drop in the price of pork or a new album by The Killers. I may even post photographic evidence.