Tuesday, 4 December 2012
270. New Glasses
The most annoying thing about being a speccy four-eyes is the need every few years to have a new pair of glasses. It is also the best thing about it. (Other good things are: excellent bug defence shields in summer, my goodness Miss Jones you're beautiful, hides bags, wrinkles, hangovers)
Face furniture is a complicated and expensive business. If, like me, your glasses are on your face all the time, you want them to be both stylish and, ultimately, forgettable. If the one thing you remember about me is my glasses I really am living my life all wrong.
I found a company that was happy to send me four pairs of frames to try on at home. Herself would like a casting vote on everything in my life, but insists on approval of anything remotely sartorial. So the frames arrived, and BF was there too. And we were all a bit drunk. So they were more than usually frank and unexpurgated on which were the stylish frames and which were so AWFUL that if I DARED to buy them they would NEVER speak to me or agree to be SEEN with me EVER AGAIN.
I won't tell you if I heeded their advice, or not. I chose some new frames, and as I type they are waiting for me at home. My old glasses gave up the ghost six hours after I bought the new ones, and are being held together by sellotape and prayer.
As of tomorrow I'll have a new face. That's how it feels! For about 14 hours. Then I get my normal face back, with added benefits. And this time, I've got two different pairs to play with!
Monday, 3 December 2012
269. China tea cups
As a result of the odd dropped hint, I now have a small collection of pretty china cups and saucers. My favourite (among many favourites) is a beautiful Limoges breakfast cup, given to me by the Parent last Christmas.
Tea, even humble Yorkshire in a bag, tastes better out of a good china cup. Mugs are fine, and I'm barely scraping the surface of possible tea-based obsessions and peculiarities, but if you want a finer experience, it has to be china.
Throughout my childhood, there would be a proper 'tea' at the weekend. A big pot of tea, toast and jam and sometimes even a Madeira cake made by Dad. Eaten in front of a real fire, they were quiet, harmonious times – and Herself and I repeat the tradition as often as possible. We don't have a real fire, sadly, but the dog curls up in front of the halogen thing very happily, which looks right, at least.
This weekend we had china cups of tea, a crumpet with butter and a mince pie, because it is the season to be merry.
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