Mr Harris

[poliphilo]

My father-in-law says that Mr Harris is the best optician in Oldham, but he won't go to him because Mr Harris smokes a pipe.

That's just daft.

But it's a sign of the times that you go into the consulting room and you notice the reek of tobacco. Once upon a time you wouldn't have noticed because every public space smelt the same.

My Harris is only working part-time now and I guess he's looking to retire. We'll miss him when he does.

Comments

[jackiejj.livejournal.com]

My Harris is only working part-time now and I guess he's looking to retire. We'll miss him when he does.

My optometrist is still young. He alarms me with his medical terminology: he'll talk about exactly what he's seeing through those bright lights, and every time I expect him to stop his patter with "uh-oh!"

I really don't want to know how things work. I worry a little that if I know the magic will be up and something will break loose.

Does your Mr. Harris have tests in the outer office? My Dr. Greer has:

-Where is the cow jumping? Is he just over the cross, just to the left, or just to the right?

-Put on this eyepatch and push the button when you see the lights flashing in your peripheral vision

-Hold very still while I puff this air into your eye to test for glaucoma

-Look steadily at the picture of the mountain and the road; this will allow the computer to guess at your prescription

Then I am ushered into the Inner Room.

Finally, chirpy Christy will talk me into expensive frames.

(And I hate it when she frowns when I try on something I like. She doesn't approve. But she won't say so exactly. "Why don't you try this?" she'll say gently, handing me some expensive frames made out of platinum.)




I hope your Mr. Harris continues for a few more years.