Being Me

I picked up my new glasses this morning. Here's a Before and After comparison for you, whether you wanted it or not. Before After You have no idea how long that's taken me, to post those Before and After pictures. Every time I posted the After one, it hopped up the page and decided to appear before the Before. 'No,' I told it. 'I need you after the Before. If you go before the Before, people will think the Before is the After and the After is the Before.' 'And who will care?' the After photo said to me. 'Why do you think anyone's bothered about your new glasses anyway?' I ignored its cheek and dragged it back down again. This time, it stayed.  It's true. Maybe no one is bothered. But it seems a dramatic change to me, and I felt very self-conscious, stepping out of the opticians into Leamington's main high street. What if I saw someone I knew? Would they do that is-it-isn't-it thing and decide not to spe...

Many of us look like this in bed (bless our cotton socks). The mouth hanging open. The complete oblivion to the fact that the mouth is open. And, perhaps, the string of dribble ... But, it's not exactly a PUBLIC face, is it? Nevertheless, after two long train journeys in the last week I've realised that sleeping with one's mouth hanging open is only one of the things we're prepared to do on public transport that we probably wouldn't do elsewhere. I always get on the train determined not to sleep, especially if I'm travelling alone. But after three hours on a hot train, eyes too tired to read, and hundreds of miles of the field-field-field-field-field-one-bored-sheep variety, my eyelids droop. Half an hour later, I'm jolted awake, hoping I didn't snore like a drain, have my mouth hanging open like a dead fish, or drool. I also hope I haven't talked in my sleep about ginger biscuits, something I was once accused of doing when I stayed wi...