I had occasion recently to go to my Isle of Wight hearing aid supplier concerning an adjustment which I had been unable to make to my hearing aids.

I won't burden you with the details except that you need fingers of steel to grip a tiny piece of something like LEGO, force it into a hole in a small disk to get rid of the old dot filter and then do it again to pick up the new dot. (Pay attention because I'm going to ask you questions on it afterwards.)

Sometimes it works, sometimes not. When I fail, I go to the supplier and they have a go; sometimes they succeed and sometimes not, in which case they have to be change the connecting wire.

On this occasion, I went there shortly after opening time and found a customer already waiting.

We will call him the Party Of The First Part since I know no more about him. We waited for some little while, then one of the Specsavers staff came in — the Party Of The Second Part, a woman who had helped me before - apologised for her lateness, unlocked her cupboards and she and the POTFP began a conversation.

I couldn't make out what they were saying but presumed he was explaining his hearing problem. Time elapsed, and then some more; it didn't sound like that sort of discussion at all, more like an episode (or two) of “The Archers” in fact and I can't be sure I didn't drop off for a while. More time went by.

Although I wasn't pushed for time, it was becoming more and more like an episode of One Foot in the Grave and I was beginning to realise I would have to bring forth my inner Victor Meldrew when another member of staff appeared and asked me if I was waiting for an appointment and, after my negative reply, asked what she could do to help?

I explained my problem, and she shot a black look at the POTSP and proceeded to do the business. The POTSP apologised to me, saying she had assumed I was waiting for an appointment.

When I left, the POTFP was still sitting, untreated, possibly glued to his chair. Had he just walked in to get out of the rain? Are they perhaps keeping him as a pet? Dusting him off with a feather duster occasionally? They would have to feed him as well, and what would they do about... Enough Jim! Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

In my last column I asked what writer said “Reading maketh a full man.” - that was Francis Bacon. Now, whose last words were alleged to be “I shall hear again in heaven.” ?