WE were leaving the Chinatown restaurant in New York and scanning the table for anything left behind when I suddenly realised that I had lost my glasses. Last seen sitting on the table. Tapped my pockets, scanned the table once more, looked on the floor. The helpful waiters moved the table and I searched the floor once more. No glasses.

Outside, the reunited group declared as one: No, we have not picked up your glasses by mistake. Have you seen the photo? I mean, would you trust any of that lot?

Even so, this was a problem. Day four of a lengthy international holiday and no reading glasses. Our local host went back inside to check with the staff – she knew them well. ‘I’ll leave my card’, she said, ‘in case they are found.’

And then I found them. Top shirt pocket.

‘A senior’s moment,’ murmured one of the group. I let it pass at the time but later I began to question the comment. It was not a senior’s moment. I simply misplaced my glasses. I probably did the same in my 20s, and then my 30s, and even more in my 40s.

But now I’m a card carrying pensioner and it becomes a senior’s moment rather than forgetfulness.

A senior’s moment implies you are on the road of deterioration. Forgetfulness one day, dementia the next, hurtling into alzheimer’s and then the final release of death.

All because I mislaid my glasses after dim sum.

Len Horne