I had a real surprise at dinner the other day.
I’d arranged to meet a friend for a bite to eat in London, and while I was hotfooting my way over there, I had a text from him:
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve invited someone else along”.
It seemed slightly odd – I’ve known this guy for many years, we meet up fairly regularly and this was the first time he’s ever brought along a guest at the last minute. Anyway, I said that that was no problem, hoping the other guest wasn’t a total bore.
I got to the restaurant, sat down at the table, and seconds later, my friend strolled in, with a recently ennobled peer. And a pretty famous one at that. Which put a whole different complexion on the evening, with me unashamedly questioning him about all sorts of political minutia, and him graciously answering everything I put to him.
Perhaps the most interesting thing I discovered was that there are actually multiple levels of lord – I’d previous figured that you’re either a lord or you’re not. But as he explained to me, he was a mere “baron” – the lowest ranked lord that it’s possible to be (duke is the highest, just in case you’re interested). He hadn’t realised this either, until his ceremony of introduction; he thought he’d reached the top, and then his eyes were opened, and he realised that he’d only got to the lowest rung on the ladder.
It’s an experience unconfined to the world of the British upper classes; dentists and surgeons find the same in the world of loupes too.
Many feel they’ve experienced “the best” loupes, that the pair they have can’t be improved on.
Then they try Designs For Vision, and realise that what they’ve currently got is nowhere near the top.
