Crottin and flowers of the cemetery. Nice. ;-(

I popped a hand out from underneath the duvet;opened one eye and there it was, an old lady’s hand!

Still immaculately cared for, nails carefully shaped and varnished but why the veins lifting up the skin to show their snake like presence?

The brown freckles, now called liver spots or flowers of the cemetery if you’d like the direct French translation. ;-(

And the gentle puckering around the wrist, reminiscent of 70’s seersucker not to mention the skin on one of my favourite cheeses.

A crottin will never taste the same now…


And all this with one eye!

I went back to sleep immediately for fear of what may have become of the rest of my body  during the night.

Is old age supposed to creep on you like that? Will it continue at a gradual pace or will it speed up at certain times of the year?

Will I ever be able to get up, dressed and  go out ever again without at least forty minutes preparation?

The time it takes for the, eight hour-in-eight-minutes, special face pac to do its work.

Ten minutes Pilates to regroup everything that headed south during the night.

The makeup applied and then misted off with Evian spray for that au naturel look.

The protein only, no carbohydrate breakfast.

Dropped waist jeans with Lycra. thank goodness they are back in fashion.

A zig-zag parting to disguise my roots and not just dark roots, there is grey in there now.

Soft, brown mascara and a smidgen of lipstick. Don’t want to be mistaken for any kind of sheep.

Right that should do it. Check full length mirror. Posture.  Shoulders, stomach, chins. Ready.


An important business meeting, you ask?

No, it’s Saturday and I’m just off to the post box with a letter…to the tooth fairy to ask if I can start having some back!




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