Here I am, make-up-less and – actually, I could have done something with my hair, couldn’t I? No matter. My eye does look a bit pouchy in the photo, something I hadn’t noticed in the mirror. However, the swelling has gone down, it’s just a bit red and no one seems to have noticed all day, or maybe they’re just too tactful to mention that I look as if I’ve been in a bit of a dust-up. You should see the other fellow, darlings.
I feel so much brighter of eye, though. It’s made me realise that my brain must have been disregarding the obstruction to my vision – that is, I didn’t consciously see the mole but it must have been blocking the corner from my sight because there’s a difference now, even without glasses on. I keep putting the damn things down and losing them, though. I can’t read with them on or prepare food, nothing close to.
So, enough about that, end of story. From tomorrow, I’ll tell you a bit about my mother. I’m afraid there are no early photos of her though. Hardly anything from her childhood was kept – her grandmother’s glove box and portrait (which I don’t really know what to do with) and that’s it. Her father, when he was losing his sight, decided to burn all photos and memorabilia, which was a great pity. So the portrait will be painted in words. As I said the other day, I have written about her before so it’ll be based on posts from six years ago. Only a few of you will have read them and fewer remember them, so I hope that you will excuse me as Blue Witch has kindly done.