When we get new shoes, they sometimes hurt. They need breaking in, softening to fit the curves of our flexible feet. We pick a size to fit and then walk them in until they are comfortable.

When we buy a new pair of jeans, they may need to be worn and washed a couple of times in order to get rid of the factory stiffness they arrive with.

A new hairstyle generally feels self-consciously short (or sexy, or silly) until it’s washed or slept on at least once, and a new filling almost always feels as if it’s protruding too much, slightly rough on the curious tongue, unable to stop prodding and testing the new contours of the teeth.

Things we put on, or change about ourselves need to be worn in to be comfortable; they need to bend to fit our bodies more comfortably. Glasses are the exception to this. A new prescription is a new way of seeing the world, and eyes have got to get used to it. The glasses won’t change, so my eyes will have to.

If my glasses were new jeans, within a week or so, they’d be easier on the eye, having softened into comfort. If they were boots, I’d limp about with blisters and plasters and insoles for a couple of weeks in the name of fashion until that one glorious morning when I realise that in the battle between foot and boot, I had come out on top. In defeat, the boots no longer rub.

But glasses are a different matter. Used to seeing things one way (the wrong way, it now turns out), a new prescription feels odd, like someone else’s false teeth. This is not my idea of improved vision. This is not how the world should look. I keep putting my old ones back on again, for comfort. The world looks right through them. The new prescription makes things too sharp, too clear, too perfect. It’s uncomfortable, and it makes my head ache.

In adult life, we so rarely have to re-learn anything. New things, yes, but not things we already know or do. What if I had to go back and learn a new way to do multiplication, or make an omelette? What’s that they say about old dogs?

This is the main reason, if I’m honest, that laser surgery would scare me. The idea of waking up in the morning and seeing things differently; having to learn to see all over again; forgetting the little adjustments and subconscious compensations I make to get around slightly crap vision. That would feel strange. Strange like new glasses.