A magnificent 11 foot long, weighing in at 640 Kg. A quality aluminium product, with specs as advanced as a baked bean can. The electrics are rather dodgy, the fridge does not seem to work on electricity or gas, and the 70's interior is retro in a bad way, but we may grow to love her.
Meanwhile I have taken the plunge and spent today at the Opticians learning how to use contact lenses. Although I am not at all squeamish about ramming my fingers into my eyeballs, the dilemma is that of needing glasses in order to see the little blighters. Once lens is precariously balanced on the end of the index finger remove your glasses. At this point you cannot see your finger or your eyeball. Peer blindly into the large magnifying mirror and insert lens up left nostril. Repeat for right nostril.
Second problem is lens removal. Poke thumb and index finger into eyeball and squeeze. Sit back and cry for 5 minutes then try again as it has fused with your cornea and refuses to budge. Make note to self to trim fingernails from thumb and index finger. Make second note to take out a contract killing on sadistic optician who refuses to let you go until you have repeated the procedure 5 times per eye.
Having failed the practical test for lens removal by use of manual dexterity the optician handed me little rubber forceps. "Nobody can use these, not even me" said the exasperated sadist. Years of surgically removing corneal foreign bodies with fine instruments came flooding back and lens was whipped out in a nanosecond. Remainder of consultation was spent training optician how to use the rubbery micro-tweezers.
So now I have my box of disposable lenses and my tweezers. All this torture due to the fact that playing tennis under floodlights wearing multi-focal lenses is impossible. When serving or setting up for an overhead smash you tilt your head and look at the ball through the reading lens part of the specs. Instinctively you duck and fold your arms over your head to avoid being decapitated by a large yellow water melon.