The following extracts are taken from “Eye Framed You – the Gemma Ruskin Story,” written by Gemma Ruskin, and published in 2027. I couldn’t exactly say I was surrounded by people who wore glasses as I grew up. My father had good eyesight and only started to wear glasses for reading when I was in my teenage years. My mother was slightly short-sighted and occasionally wore her glasses when she was driving or watching the television. More commonly, though, they were in the wrong place, so she just made do without them. For me, glasses were things which some adults wore. Children didn’t wear glasses, and the handful of them in my primary school who did, didn’t count, as I didn’t know them. My brother, Max, inherited his eyesight from our father, whilst I … was different. My first encounter with a pair of glasses on someone my own age was when we were in the third year at Junior School – Year 5, as it is now known. There were six of us at our table – Jane Smith, Helen Brown, Ruth Jones, Simon Ruskin, Andrew Clifford and me. We were at the table at the back of the classroom, as we were all fairly quiet, hard-working pupils. One Monday morning, Helen put a small black case on the table in front of her, as well as the rest of her pens and pencils. At first, I thought it might contain a special pen, as we had all earned our “pen licences” a few weeks earlier. Later in the morning, she opened the box up to reveal a pair of brown-rimmed plastic glasses, which she proceeded to clean thoroughly before putting them on for the next ten minutes or so. At play time, the boys went off to play football. The four of us girls sat on our usual bench at the edge of the playground to eat whatever food our mothers had given us. It didn’t take more than thirty seconds before Helen was being grilled about her new look. Why did she need glasses? What’s it like to wear glasses? How many fingers am I holding up? Can I try them? How long have you had them? Are you going blind? We took turns at trying the glasses on. It was quite difficult to tell the difference between what I could see with the glasses and what I could see without them. They really weren’t at all strong, but because it was fairly easy to see through them, I was convinced that this must mean that I also needed to wear glasses. I tried to persuade my mother that I could see so much better with Helen’s glasses, but she wasn’t having any of it. “I didn’t need glasses until I was 32,” she said. “I only got them after you were born. There’s nothing wrong with your eyesight.” “But there is.” “No, there isn’t. Only last week, I asked you what the time was on the clock as I couldn’t see it clearly from where I was sitting, and you could see it perfectly well.” She had a point. However, with all my badgering, she eventually agreed to arrange a sight test for me, as she needed one herself. She needed a new pair of glasses as hers had taken quite a battering from Max. He was only about six months old at the time, and tended to make a grab for anything he could get his hands on. More than once, Mum’s glasses had ended up on the ground. Nobody had trodden on them, yet, but the lenses would certainly have been broken several times over if they had been made of real glass. I don’t remember much about that sight test, apart from having to wear a funny pair of glasses to read the letters on the wall. I do remember that Mum had said how keen I was to wear glasses because one of my friends had them. As the man doing the test put more and more lenses into the frame, I was able to read more of the chart. When he had finished, he took them all out again, and showed me that I could see just as well, if not better, with nothing in front of my eyes. He explained to Mum that he had deliberately made me slightly short-sighted before he started the test so that I couldn’t cheat. I felt slightly miffed that I had been so easily fooled, but it ended the debate about whether or not I could see properly for a few years. Helen’s glasses case sat on the table for the rest of the school year. Occasionally, she would put the glasses on for a few minutes before putting them away again. To me, it seemed like such a waste, having them on the table but not wearing them. How I longed to be able to put them on myself, but the occasion never presented itself. Besides, I knew that I didn’t need them, and I began to wonder whether Helen did, either. When we started our final year at Junior school, we were lucky to be in the same room, with the same teacher. She moved a few of our classmates from one table to another, but left the six of us together as she “knew that she could trust us.” About a month into the new term, Helen’s black glasses case disappeared, and was replaced by a pink one. The glasses inside were a very similar shape and colour to her previous pair, but she still seemed to do her best not to wear them. Needless to say, once playtime came, the other three of us had to try them on. As it happened, Helen had not taken her old pair of glasses out of her bag over the weekend, so we were all able to compare both pairs. Ruth and Jane said how strong they felt the new glasses were. I could just about tell that they might have been a bit stronger than the previous ones, and I felt a moment of excitement when I thought that I might be able to see better with the old pair than without. After the fuss that my Mum had made last time, I wasn’t going to fight the battle to get my eyes tested again, but I did begin to wonder. The area I was living in was not one of those where children took the “Eleven Plus” exam. The next closest town with a secondary school was about fifteen miles away, so it was normal for almost every child in my primary school to go to the closest secondary. And so it was with the six of us. However, we were separated up into different classes. Ruth and Simon found themselves in one group, Andrew and Jane were in another, and Helen and I were in a third. The school seemed so enormous at first that I was worried about getting lost. For the first few weeks, the six of us tended to get together at break time – if only for moral support. Once the boys found somewhere that they could go and play football, we didn’t see as much of them, unless it happened to be raining. Nevertheless, the four of us continued to meet up, even as we were getting to know other people, and we often walked home together at the end of the day. I was lucky enough to sit next to Helen in most of our lessons. My maiden name was Brunton, so any class where we were seated in alphabetical order saw us sitting side by side. I don’t think either of us minded particularly. It meant that we could get to know others when we were ready to do so. There were a number of other students in our class who wore glasses by this point, and I was not particularly surprised when Helen also got a new pair. They were easier to spot, as the frames were a deep purple colour. She also tended to wear them whenever we had to copy something off the board. I often found myself copying the board work from her book. She was a faster writer than me, and I was noticing that I had to strain quite hard when I was unable to copy her work. My realisation that I, too, needed glasses, came towards the end of the Summer term. We had a cover teacher and the screen was covered in Maths equations, but they were so small as to be nearly impossible to read. I couldn’t copy from Helen, either, as I could see she was also struggling. She had her left hand holding her glasses tight to her nose, and was squinting like anything to try to read the third equation. “I give up,” she said. “What does number three say?” “I don’t know. It’s too small.” “You’re the one with the perfect eyesight.” “You’re the one with the glasses.” “I need new ones. These aren’t strong enough. If you can’t read it, perhaps you should get glasses, too. Try these.” I did. We managed to complete the work with me wearing Helen’s glasses, and her occasionally taking them back so that she could see to copy from my book. I was in half a mind to ask if I could keep them at the end of the lesson, but they were hers, and I knew that her need was greater than mine. I wanted to say something when I got home, but couldn’t find a way of bringing the subject up casually. Mum was rather fraught as Max was having a temper tantrum, so I went to my room, shut the door, and got on with my homework. It wasn’t a great surprise when Helen came to school a few weeks later with a brand new pair of glasses. “My eyes have got a lot worse in the last nine months. I’m now a minus three in both eyes, so I’ve been told I have to wear these all the time.” Even to a casual observer, I could see that the lenses were stronger. When Jane and Ruth tried the glasses on, they made comments about how blind Helen must be. I was hesitant about trying the glasses on, but Helen insisted. “We all know you need glasses, Gemma. What can you see with these?” Eventually, I did put them on. Helen’s previous pair had allowed me to see the board with a little eye strain. Her new pair were harder work, but once I had taken thirty seconds or so to focus and look around, I could see pretty well with them. “They’re too strong for me,” is what I actually said. “But can you see with them?” “I can see through them.” “That’s not the same thing at all.” “You need to get your own pair, you know.” “Yes, yes, I know. It’s not me that you need to tell; it’s my Mum. I’ll get round to it eventually, but when Max is screaming his head off, she doesn’t have much time for me.” Even so, it was another four months before I managed to persuade her to book me another sight test. That wasn’t really my doing. We’d had a parents’ evening at school, and one of the teachers had commented that I seemed to be squinting a lot and struggling to see. As if to dismiss it, she’d made me try her glasses on when we got home. I think she was rather surprised when I told her that I didn’t think they were strong enough, especially as I had had perfect vision last time we had had my eyes tested. “But that was only last year. They can’t have got that bad so soon.” “Mum, it was three years ago. We left Max at home with Dad and both went off together.” “Maybe you’re right, Gemma.” “I know I’m right. I have tried to tell you, but haven’t found the right time.” This time, it was only me having my eyes tested. Mum had had to bring Max along as well, but he was being his usual boisterous self, so she decided against sitting in the testing room with me. I was able to explain how I felt I was having difficulty seeing the board, and how I had been able to see better when I had borrowed Helen’s glasses. I looked very carefully when the trial frame was put on my face to make sure that I wasn’t being tricked again. I was only able to read about half of the chart before we started, so it wasn’t a great surprise that I could read more as the test went on. Once we had finished, I was able to read the bottom line. “I’ll just go and get your mother,” the optometrist said, “so I only have to explain what I have found the once.” A minute or so, she came into the room. Max was squirming all over the place, so I’m not sure quite how much of what she was told, she grasped, but the upshot was that I needed glasses. “It’s not the strongest first prescription I’ve ever seen, although it is quite a strong prescription for a first pair of glasses, so you would be well advised to wear your glasses all the time. You’re short-sighted in both eyes, and have some astigmatism as well. It will probably take you a couple of weeks to get used to your glasses, when you get them. Your eyes are very healthy; you just need some extra help to see clearly.” The shop was fairly busy, so the assistant put my notes onto a table in order to reserve the space. She then suggested that we try on some frames, and that she’d come back when we’d found something we liked. If we wanted any more help, she was more than willing, but lots of people had a fair idea of what they were looking for anyway. Once she’d gone, I started trying on frames. I rather fancied a pair like the ones I had borrowed from Helen, so it didn’t take long before we had narrowed it down to two possible frames. I chose the maroon pair, rather than the deep purple one, if only so that my frames were not identical to Helen’s. “I’ll be about five minutes,” the assistant said. “I’ll be with you after I’ve adjusted this gentleman’s new glasses.” “I’m going to take Max outside for a breath of fresh air, before he screams the place down. I’ll be back very shortly.” And suddenly, I was sitting on my own. I felt like I should be the most important person, but I was being ignored. I couldn’t resist a quick glance at my notes. If I had to wear my glasses all of the time, it had to be close to Helen’s minus three. I was quite surprised to see that it was only R -1.25 -0.75 x177 and L -1.75 -0.25 x17. The next thirty seconds changed my life. I still can’t explain why I did it, even today, but I picked up the black biro beside my notes, and changed the 1s into 7s by crossing the numbers, just like the optometrist had done with the other digits. My heart was beating very fast when the lady came back and picked up my details, but she seemed more intent on processing my details as quickly as possible. As she entered my details into the computer, she did remark on the fact that it was a strong prescription for a twelve year-old. I half wanted to admit to what I had done, but I didn’t dare. I just wanted to get out of the shop as quickly as possible. I’d like to say that I forgot what I had done in the ten days it took for them to make the glasses, but it wouldn’t be true. I felt guilty, worried and excited in equal measures. At times, I wanted to tell my mother what I had done. I didn’t know how she’d react if I said anything, so I never did. I didn’t tell anyone at school that I was getting glasses, in case I didn’t like them. Even if I was supposed to be wearing them all the time, I still had the option not to wear them at all. Except that I knew I needed them – or at least, I needed what the optometrist had written. “Your glasses are ready, Gemma.” It was like a death knell. It had been ten days since we ordered them, and now I was going to come face-to-face with my own stupidity. If there was one saving grace, it was the fact that the call had come through on the Thursday, so we were going to pick them up after school on Friday. That meant that no-one would see me in them until Monday, so I’d have a couple of days to get used to them. I had to tell Helen that I wasn’t going to be walking home with them that evening, as I was going to pick up my glasses. “About time, too,” was her reaction. “How strong are they? Will you have to wear them all day, like me?” “They didn’t tell me what the prescription was, but it must be quite like yours as I have to wear them all the time.” They hadn’t physically told me my prescription, and I had been told to wear them all the time. What I hadn’t admitted to was the fact that they would be over twice as strong as hers. I would have liked to unsay that final sentence, as I had just committed myself to going to school in them on Monday, whether I wanted to, or not. Helen was bound to tell Jane and Ruth on the way home, so there was no getting out of it. Even if they weren’t physically on my face, they would make me put them on. As usual, Max was throwing a tantrum when my mother picked me up. With the motion of the car, he dozed off on the way into town. She managed to put him into the pushchair as we walked to the optician’s, but she had to keep him moving as he was threatening to wake up at any moment. When we got there, I was shown to a chair and asked to wait while they went to fetch my glasses. My mother was standing behind me, rocking the pushchair backwards and forwards. Her attention was much more on Max than it was on me, so she didn’t see the glasses when the case was opened up in front of me. The frame looked good. The lenses sparkled in the light. The optician took them out of the case and handed them to me. I nearly gasped when I saw how thick the lenses were. I opened the arms and put them on. The room had not been clear before, but it was even less so now. “How do they feel? How well can you see?” This was probably the time to be honest, but once again, I bottled it. At least, what I said was a selection of half-truths. “They’re very comfortable.” That much was true. “They make a big difference.” Also true. “They seem quite strong.” Undeniably true. “They did say that it might take me a couple of weeks to get used to them.” Again, true. She took a few measurements, and then disappeared out the back for a couple of minutes. “I’ve adjusted the arms slightly, so the glasses shouldn’t slip. With strong prescriptions, like yours, it’s important that the lenses are as close to your eyes as possible. I’ve also checked the prescription is correct – minus seven point two five in the right eye and minus seven point seven five in the left, with a little astigmatism in both eyes as well. Do they feel better now?” They were certainly very snug against my face. She gave me a mirror to see what I thought. I couldn’t see anything other than a blur. “What do you think, Mum?” I asked, turning to her. “Gemma, I…” she gasped. It sounded as if she was suppressing a sob, but I couldn’t see her face as she had turned away from me. “They suit you,” she managed. We made our way back to the car fairly rapidly after that. I couldn’t really see where we were going, but as I knew the town fairly well, I had no trouble finding my way. When we got to the car, my mother turned to me and said: “Oh, Gemma, I’m so sorry. I had no idea your eyesight was that bad. I really should have had your eyes tested again sooner, then this might never have happened. Can you really see through those?” “It’s okay, Mum. It’s not your fault. These things happen. I’ll be okay. They’re taking some getting used to, but they did tell me that that was perfectly normal. I’ve just got to keep wearing them and I’ll be fine.” I made a point of keeping the glasses on all the way home, but as soon as I was back in my bedroom, I took the glasses off to see what all the fuss had been about. From what I could see, the lenses were more than twice as thick as the frames. I looked at myself in the mirror, but couldn’t really see clearly enough to see how I looked. I wanted to forget that I even had glasses, but everyone who was important to me knew that I was getting them, so I put them back on, and resolved to get on with getting used to them. I had a bit of a headache when I went to bed that evening. I took a couple of painkillers and had an early night. The following morning, I woke up early. I had homework to do, so I put my glasses on and tried to get started on it. After a couple of minutes, I took them back off again, and did my homework without. It wasn’t going to help me to get used to them, but as no-one else was up, I didn’t get any reminders. I put them in my dressing-gown pocket and went downstairs for breakfast. When I heard someone coming down the stairs, I put them on, and there they stayed until bedtime that evening. Not that I had any choice in the matter, as my parents had decided that we were taking Max to the zoo, but I was grateful that I didn’t have to do any close work. With a bit of effort, I could see the animals fairly well, although I couldn’t read the notices about them. My mother did catch me looking over the top of the lenses a couple of times, but I explained that I couldn’t believe how different everything looked through the lenses. “Clearer, I hope?” she asked. “Definitely.” It wasn’t untrue, but I had to strain to see the animals clearly through the lenses, whereas I couldn’t see them properly without. I was quite pleased that we didn’t have any specific plans for the next day, as it gave me the chance to find out what I could and could not do with the glasses on. I learned that I was okay around the house, but that it was hard to focus clearly on anything. Books were hard, although I could just about work out the words in good light – and I did have to keep lifting the glasses up to check I had read them correctly. I also discovered that it was slightly easier to see if I tilted the lenses slightly and moved them a little further from my eyes. Mid-afternoon, I felt myself falling asleep, so I took them off and had a nap. I never particularly looked forward to going to school on Monday morning, but this time I was worried sick. I had seen the grilling that Helen got on the morning she first walked into school in glasses, and many of us had seen her in them in lessons over the previous few years. Nobody had ever seen me in glasses, and yet I was going to have to wear them. I felt sick. I tried to persuade Mum that I wasn’t well enough to go in, but she was having none of it. I suspect she had worked out that I was feeling very self-conscious. She pointed out that I could have a day off today, but I would still have to go in wearing glasses for the first time tomorrow. I might as well get it over with. I was a couple of minutes late leaving the house. As soon as I turned the corner, off came the glasses, and into my inside jacket pocket they went. Helen and Jane were waiting for me in the usual spot. Ruth was usually last there, and we often had to hurry to avoid being late to school. “How was your weekend?” I asked the others. “Did you do anything exciting?” Neither of the other two had, so I told them about my visit to the zoo on Saturday. I hadn’t mentioned the glasses at all, but Helen hadn’t forgotten. “Where are your glasses? I thought you said you had to wear them all the time?” I thought about saying that there had been a last minute change of plan and that I had got contact lenses instead. That wouldn’t have worked, as I would still have been copying from Helen in lessons. I also considered saying that there had been some sort of a problem, so I would have to wait a bit longer for them, but that would only have delayed the inevitable. “I’m saving them for later, so I don’t have everyone staring at me when I arrive.” First lesson of the day was maths. The teacher explained what we needed to do to solve a number of equations. I listened carefully, and could just about make out what he was writing on the board as he worked through a couple of examples. Then, he put some more questions up for us to attempt. I nudged Helen for her to show me what the first question said, as I had done many times before. “Put your glasses on, Gemma,” she whispered back to me. I didn’t really have any choice, so I took them out of my pocket and placed them very carefully on my face. The writing at the front of the room seemed very small, but I could just about make it out. I heard a gasp from Helen as she had turned to look at me. “Be quiet, and get on with your work, Helen,” is what the teacher said. We worked in silence for the rest of the lesson. I found it hard to see what I was writing, so I took my glasses off a couple of times, with the pretence of cleaning them, to allow me to make further progress – and to check what I had written. I took them off at the first possible opportunity, and put them back into their case. Our second lesson of the morning was PE, and glasses and trampolining was never likely to be a good combination. Helen had worn her glasses to the lesson, but gave them to me to hold when it was her turn on the trampoline. At break time, the inquisition finally started. I was made to put my glasses on for the others to have a look at them. My choice of frames got a lot of compliments, but these were usually followed by a comment on how strong they looked or how thick the lenses were. And then, of course, the others wanted to try them. Jane and Ruth managed to wear them for about five seconds each, before declaring that I must be blind without them. Helen was amazed at how much stronger they were than her own glasses, and insisted that we swap for the rest of breaktime. I knew her glasses were stronger than I needed, but it was nice to be able to see reasonably well. Looking at Helen, I was able to appreciate for the first time, the reality of what people saw when they looked at me. The thickness of the lenses was obvious. They made Helen’s eyes look significantly smaller, and there appeared to be a number of rings inside the lenses when she wasn’t looking straight ahead. I didn’t recall ever seeing such a strong pair of glasses on anyone, ever, and yet, thanks to my own stupidity, they were mine. I was expected to wear them. Although I wanted to put them back into their case, I was made to walk to third lesson in them. It wasn’t a problem as I knew exactly where I was going, but for the rest of the day, I kept hearing comments like: “Gemma’s wearing glasses.” “Did you see how thick those lenses were?” “She must be blind.” At lunchtime, I had more people wanting to try my glasses on. “Why are they so thick?” was another question I had to face. My only possible answer was that I needed them to be that thick in order to be able to see clearly. It was quite a relief when Helen wanted to swap glasses again for a few minutes. Even as I looked at her, I was amazed that no-one had realised that the prescription couldn’t possibly be correct for a first-time wearer. When I got home that evening, I went to my room to get changed. The first thing I did was to take the glasses off and get on with my homework. I had been working hard to see through them all day, so I needed a bit of a break from them. When dinnertime came, I put them back on. I couldn’t see my dinner very well, but I was hungry enough to eat it almost without stopping. “How was your day, Gemma?” Mum asked. “What did you learn? Did anyone say anything about your glasses?” I actually couldn’t remember anything of what I had learned during the day, as most of it had been centred on me and my new eyewear. I did tell her that everyone had wanted to try them on, and that even Helen had found them a bit too strong for her. It took a couple of days for the fuss to die down. People were getting used to seeing me in glasses, and I was better at working out what was written on the board when I had them on. I did keep taking them off “to clean” them – especially when I was having to read from a book, and a few times I had to compare the with and without in order to be able to see something clearly. It became part of my routine to take the glasses off when I did my homework and put them back on again for dinner. My friends, also, did their bit to help. On one occasion, I overheard Helen telling someone to leave me alone, that it wasn’t my fault my eyes were so bad and that my glasses were so thick, and that they should just imagine how little I was able to see before I got them. By the time I had been wearing them for about a fortnight, I realised that I was better off with them than without. Without, everything seemed blurry. With them, things were just as blurry, but I could bring them into focus with a little bit of effort. Every day, it seemed to be getting a little easier to see clearly, and I was able to wear them all day without any issues. I could probably still have told my mother and gone back to get the correct prescription put into my frames, but I was secretly rather proud that no-one else could see anything much with my glasses, but I could. The next stage in my getting used to the prescription came after I had had the glasses for a couple of months. I had woken up early one morning, and had a book that I needed to read for school. After a couple of minutes, I realised that I was holding it uncomfortably close to my face in order to be able to read it clearly. I put my glasses on. I had to hold the book close to arm’s length, but all the letters were crystal clear, and I hadn’t even moved the lenses away from my eyes, like I had used to. About the same time, Helen came into school with a new pair of glasses. She explained that her eyes were getting a lot worse, and she had to get new glasses every six months. Her new pair was now a minus four, but they were still nowhere near as thick and strong as mine. For some reason, I drew some pleasure from that, although I couldn’t work out why. Like the others, I took my turn in trying them on. While they complained that the lenses were far too strong, to me, they seemed pretty much perfect. “I’ve booked you an eye test for half term,” my mother said, about three months later. “We got a reminder through the post this morning, so I thought I’d better do it sooner rather than later.” I hadn’t realised it was going to be so soon. I had thought they were every year. I had considered having an accident with my glasses. I was worried they would find out that I was wearing the wrong prescription, even though they seemed pretty much perfect by this stage. I certainly couldn’t see well enough to cope without them, for anything. I still occasionally took them off when I was doing my homework, but that was usually when I was so engrossed in something that they were almost in the way, and I put them on again straight afterwards. By the time the sight test came around, I had calmed down somewhat. The piece of paper that I had amended was somewhere in our house, and these were the same glasses I had got from the optician’s. Nevertheless, I was relieved when I saw that the person doing my sight test was a woman. I had seen a man the previous time, so there was no chance that she would remember me. When she asked me to read the chart with my glasses on, I did it without any difficulty at all. When she removed my glasses, I couldn’t see more than a smudge where the largest letter was supposed to be. It was good news. Although it was quite common for girls of my age to have some big changes in prescription, my eyes had hardly changed in the last six months, and I didn’t need new glasses. I also didn’t need to be seen again for another year, unless I started having any difficulty. I was relieved that I hadn’t been caught out, but also slightly disappointed that I had not had the fun of picking out new frames. Looking back, I had quite enjoyed being the centre of attention for a few days. Now, I was going to have to wait another year for that moment. If there was one compensation, I reflected in the car on the way home, in my hand, I now held a piece of paper with my own name, address and date of birth, and the numbers R – 7.00 -1.00 x175 L -7.50 -0.50 x20 – a confirmation that the glasses I had been wearing for the last six months were now rightfully mine. I really did need them. I didn’t make it to twelve months, as when I started to complain that I couldn’t see very well at the start of my third year, my mother took me seriously, and arranged another sight test as soon as she could. The lady was a bit surprised to see me again so soon, but tried to comfort my mother by telling her that it was not unusual for teenagers to need more regular sight tests. She told her that she had done the right thing by bringing me in then, rather than making me wait, and my new prescription proved it. R -8.00 -1.25 x174 L -9.00 -0.75 x22 My new glasses again attracted a lot of comments. The fronts of the lenses were nearly flat, so the light glinted off them in a fascinating way. They were noticeably thicker than my old pair as I had insisted on a slightly larger frame, while my mother didn’t want to pay a lot of extra money for thinner lenses if I was likely to need an updated prescription six months later. Helen, who was now wearing glasses which were “nearly minus five” again quizzed me on my prescription. Although it was tempting to suggest that mine were “nearly minus ten”, I settled for telling her that my right eye was minus eight (she gasped) and my left eye was minus nine (“oh wow, you poor thing.”) Both Helen and I were very hard workers at school, and the amount of time we spent doing close work clearly took its toll on both of our eyesights. We were both getting new glasses twice a year, and the increases in my prescription were almost always just that little bit more than Helen’s. Helen finally reached minus ten just before her A-levels, and I left school with R -14.75 -2.75 x160 and L -16.00 -2.50 x 25. By this point, we had taken to ordering my glasses off the internet, as we were able to buy them with thinner lenses for the same cost as we could get them with ordinary lenses in town. I left school and did a fashion design course. A lot of what I learned was about clothes and fabrics, but my real interest was in glasses frames. I had had a dozen pairs of my own by that stage, so I knew what I liked and disliked. True, I had to work within the parameters of the course in order to get my qualifications and the all-important experience, but that wasn’t the primary focus of my studies. I met up again with Simon Ruskin a couple of years after I had qualified. I was designing clothes for a high-street chain at the time. It paid well, but not brilliantly, and I was forever taking orders, rather than being able to design my own things. Simon had done his engineering degree, and was just starting to work for a multi-national company. The upside was that he was able to live at home, although the biggest drawback was that once, if not twice, a month, he had to travel. Eventually, we bought a flat together, and were married a few years later. We decided not to have children, as neither of us could guarantee being around to raise them. The idea of my glasses company came one evening when we were at home. We had just spent a frustrating couple of hours on the Internet looking for a new frame for my latest prescription. There were several styles I quite liked, and there were some colours which took my fancy, but we couldn’t get both together. “If only choosing glasses was as easy as choosing the colour of paint. You know, where you pick the colour you like, and they mix the paint for you while you wait,” I said. Simon liked the idea. “It must be possible to do that, although I don’t think anyone has done it yet. You’d still have to get the lenses made to the correct prescription. I know yours have to be made specially, but there are so many places where you can get it done in store. It might take more than an hour to do, but you’d still be able to offer a same-day service, and people would have glasses which were exactly the colour they liked.” And so, the idea was born. It took another year or so to create a proto-type. Once we had done it, we set up a crowdfunding website, and raised enough money to build our first three machines. We took them to some independent opticians in shopping centres, and the idea grew from there. We started with coloured, opaque plastic frames in a couple of sizes and styles, and have gone on from strength to strength. Once the idea was out there, we started to get companies approaching us, and we knew we’d hit the jackpot when we got our first order from the Far East. We thought about calling the company “You’ve Been Framed,” but as that was the title of a television programme, we turned it round the other way. I did think about “I Framed You”, before Simon suggested changing the ”I” to “Eye,” and then it stuck. We’ve been grateful to a number of retail outlets over the years, too, as they have also played their part in our success. The ability to chose exactly the colour of frame proved so popular, that it started to take business away from the mail order companies. Then, some of them hit on the idea that you could make two identical frames, in different colours, and then just switch the arms over. That way, you could have two pairs of glasses with a reversible look. The black frames with white arms are particularly popular, as are the white frames with black arms. That’s why, when we made version two of our machine, we gave the option of having different-coloured arms right from the very beginning. We reckon that there are about two thousand of our mark one machines in the world at the moment, and another five thousand or so mark twos. Others have started to copy our idea now, so there’s a bit more competition. However, we’ve established ourselves as the market leaders in self-designed eyewear, and that’s not a position we plan to relinquish any time soon. Even now, we’re working on version three. I don’t want to give away too many of our secrets, but we are expanding the range of frame styles and colour options, too. We are also working on a slight tweak to the materials, so that the frames can be re-cycled, if they cannot be re-used by anybody. Who knows whether any of this would have happened but for my moment of madness when I was twelve years old? I’ve still got that pair of glasses somewhere. At the time, they were far too strong for me. Now, they seem pitifully weak. I spent several months regretting my actions at the time. Now, I don’t regret a thing. It’s almost as if it was meant to be. “Eye Framed You” is available in hardback, at a price of £19.99.