My war with contact lenses will never be over. Today I engaged in the battle of “contact lens check” at my opticians in Manchester. I was supposed to go in September last year but couldn’t be bothered since I rarely wear them, mainly because I can’t see particularly well with them.

Waking up late, feeling pretty dreadful as ever, I drove into the big city where the new one way system confounded me to the extent that I ended up in a car park that I couldn’t find the exit from. I then got lost in Victoria Station. Things started badly and were only going to get worse.

After a semi-conscious shuffle around Marks’s, I made my way through the hell of the Arndale Centre to the opticians.

The test itself went much as expected.

“How are you finding the lenses?” the optician asked.

“Well, I can’t really see very well through them, so I don’t often wear them.”

“OK, I’ll turn the lights off and, if you cover your left eye, can you tell me the furthest line down that you can read with your right eye?”

“It’s all blurred.”

“Ok, have a look at the red and green panels. Is either of them more in focus than the other?”

“Nope, they’re both blurred.”

“Is it better with or without this lens?”

“No different.”

“Right, let’s have a look with your left eye then. Cover your right eye, what’s the furthest line down that you can read now?”

“Well, that’s better, I can read the second line… just.”

“Red or green panel?”

“Red.”

“Better with or without this lens?”

“No different.”

“OK then, now try with both eyes.”

“Yeah, that’s OK, I can read the top two lines.”

“Right then, your left eye is compensating for your right and you can see OK with them both together, there’s no point in changing them.”

Clearly not, since you’ve got six months’ worth of lenses in the stock room for me and they’re probably going out of date.

I took my lenses out for the orange snot test, replaced them with a fresh pair, and wandered back to Marks’s. Utterly deranged, I bought some underwear that’s probably my niece’s size and made my way back to the car.

Driving is quite uncomfortable when you have a contact lens stuck to the inside of your eyelid.

I’m getting a little fed up of feeling drained. It’s not sleepy tiredness, it’s like there’s a disconnect between my brain and everything that makes my body function. So now on Saturday night, I think I’m going reboot myself by making myself feel so very bad that I’ll never complain about feeling a little bit exhausted. The recipe for this is:

When I regain consciousness, possibly on Monday, I shall note down how I feel and use that as a baseline for future reference.