Specs in under an hour. My fucking arse.
I must have gone into at least five opticians that advertised new glasses in under an hour, but not one of them could deliver. Apparently I have a strange prescription, which means it will take take them TEN DAYS to make the lenses. It's not as if I have Marty Feldman eyes or an extra one growing out of the middle of my forehead.
I suspect the "glasses in under one hour" promise only applies to the non-prescription sunglasses section, and even then - given the average level of service in Hungary - they would probably struggle to meet this deadline.
"I'd like to buy that pair of sunglasses, please."
"Certainly. Please wait around for 30 mins while I smoke a fag, talk to my boyfriend on the phone, idly pick my nose, randomly move some empty boxes around for while and then inspect my plucked eyebrows in the mirror. Maybe then I'll serve you, but only if I can be bothered. Even then I'll probably sigh as if you've just asked me to make the glasses myself, thus endangering my precariously long - not to mention vicious - nails."
"That would be fine, thank you. I'll just stand in the corner and bang my head to a bloody pulp on the wall."
The upshot of this is that I am having to walk around the city, blindly groping in front of me. Actually, that last bit isn't really necessary. I'm just trying to cop a feel.