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In which I become my Father.

March 21, 2013
08:57 AM

Whenever the weather changes my lips acknowledge the change by cracking. As this only happens twice a year (cold>hot and hot>cold) I inevitably lose my lip salve and so pinch a dab of Síle’s out of her handbag. This change (it’s the cold>hot upon us) I found a little pot called Burt’s Bees in The Hand Bag and it worked a pure treat. Eventually, when I confessed, she informed me that it was far from lip salve I was using. She had decanted some industrial hand cream into the handy Burt’s pot when it got emptied.
I hastily bought some proper stuff before my lips started to grow fingernails. As I did a little memory bulb ignited above my head.
My father, in his old age, suffered from Psoriasis on the back of his hands and also his sight wasn’t great. He had a cortisone cream which he used to control the condition which he kept in the bathroom. One morning he arrived down to breakfast with bright pink cream spread all over the back of his hands. When we remarked on this he looked down at his hands in some surprise. “Goodness, I must have put toothpaste (Pink Euthymol) on in mistake for the cream “- but then, a few days later, he noticed a marked improvement in his skin condition and ergo continued to spread Euthymol on his hands from that time on.
It is a moment of sadness and happiness to see that, in my old age, I am turning into my father !

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