Going to the back door

I wear contact lenses. Because my eyes are a funny shape they have to be "old fashioned" rigid contact lenses. Little plastic discs that float on the tears in my eyes. They're not a bit like the flexible contact lenses that most people wear. One of the consequences of their characteristics is that the liquids needed to clean and store them are not available at the local supermarket. The liquids generally come from an optician.

There are three opticians, that I know of, in Pinoso, and Maria, the optician for one of them, has the lens solutions I like most for my particular contacts. Maria must have had sex within the last nine months or so because she's quite pregnant at the moment. Someone had mentioned this to me - the pregnancy, not the sex - so I thought I'd stock up on lens solutions. Just in case there was none of that "having the baby behind the tractor before getting on with the ploughing" spirit of the old Soviet, and she closed the shop for a while. 

I got the liquids the other morning. At the time Maria said that, if I needed any more, I should send her a WhatsApp message and she'd ask her dad, who runs the shop next door to hers, to collect the solutions for me and sell them on so that I didn't go without.

Life in a small town has certain advantages.