Whilst on holiday in England I pursue an exacting beauty routine. At my age I can't be too careful. At all costs I must preserve what withers. These days there is no end of potions and lotions available to the half witted, such as myself. Thus when I dive in the shower with my Brillo pad once in every 24 hour period, I emerge ready to face the world.
I decide, seeing as how it is my Wedding Anniversary, that maybe I should make a little bit more of an effort. I rummage through my luggage for the newly purchased mascara. I left the five year old, dried up predecessor in the bin, in San Jose.
I discover that make-up has advanced since I last had occasion to use any. I recall noting some very fancy spectacles that opened out like doors to aid the visually challenged, but I don't have any to hand. I struggle with wands without magic. I am certain that my nose is a more mountainous obstacle than it used to be or maybe my manipulation skills are less agile.
That said, I yank on a clean T-shirt, good to go.
I bounce out of the bed room to present myself to my husband……….…for his approval……….……which I prompt, “I'm all ready…………in my smart T-shirt……..….which is clean!” He glances in my direction with a child hanging off his elbow, a large child who appears to be suffering an attack of jelly legs.
“Oh yes……very……….er…..white!” I give up and bend down to tie someone's shoe laces, as the shoe lace tying campaign has floundered.
My son examines me, an aerial view, “ooo I am like!”
“Thank you dear.” At least someone appreciates my efforts.
“I am have?”
“Have what dear? A clean T-shirt?”
“Er……..what do you want?”
“I am want……er……have……..spiders on my eyes too.”