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Look in the mirror

 Although as we get older the inclination is not to look in the mirror, sometimes it  is prudent to do so.  Yesterday I went to the Ophthalmologist for my check up following my cataract operations.  The French love putting drops in your eyes so I was not surprised when each of the three people I saw came at me with small bottle in hand.  I was there for nearly two hours and then I had to sit in my car for an hour until my vision  cleared.  On the way home I stopped in the supermarket but being desperate for the ladies I went there first.  As I washed my hands I looked in the mirror and to my horror there was an image of a rusty panda.  Circled around my eyes were orange streaks and because I must have touched them they had spread out across my forehead.  Masks cover a multitude of sins, lines and sagging chins but the eyes and forehead are left exposed for the world to see.  I ran the tap and tried desperately to rub it off but it had dried on hard and wouldn't budge.  I took a tissue and rubbed harder but it stubbornly refused to budge.  I didn't wait to  dry my hands, head down I headed for the car park; I can do without food for a day.  Now how to avoid my neighbours.

As I write this there are still 4 hours before the inauguration of Biden.  Just 4 hours and yet no can breathe, waiting in expectation that Trump will do something even worse than he has before prior to the bewitching hour of midday.  I hope no-one turns up at his farewell and that he is left to skulk away while his own vice president, former presidents and the rest of the world have their eyes on Biden.

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