Ok, well, I had my eye test. The good news is that my eyes are still the same withered stumps at the end of my ocular nerves they were two years ago, they haven't got any worse.
The better news is that despite not speaking any english (perhaps for the better), the optemetrist wasn't a wrinkled pervy old hag-man, neither was she so hot that I nearly had her eye out (see previous post). In fact, she was just the right amount of cuteness for an optometrist. Cute enough that I felt comfortable telling her random letters from a board at the other end of the galaxy, but not so hot that I felt the need to rearrange the letters into haiku's about how shaggable she was. Not that it would have made any difference, what with the no hablar ingles situation that was going on. Even the chair was more Sloggi than Anne Summers. Every little bit helps.
I think she was actually quite into me - she said she was going to call me, and we had some great eye-contact going on.
Game on for cute Spanish Sloggi optometrists.
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