I pride myself on presenting the best of me. That's not to say I spend hours in front of a mirror primping and plucking; I don't. But I take care over my appearance. However, someone might point to a time when I once let my standards slip.
Picture
the scene; Susan and I are sitting at my table, replete after dining on a
gorgeous curry, a dish we had prepared and cooked ourselves. We are relaxing, chatting
about the ingredients, the hot spices, the wonderful colours, looking forward
to a cosy evening on the sofa with a good movie. Our eyes meet and we exchange
happy smiles of contentment.
But
something's wrong. Susan is frowning. In an effort to recapture the mood I
widen my smile, why I'm practically beaming. But this doesn't have the desired effect. Susan rocks back in her chair, laughing in little hitching gasps. "What's
up," I query, a degree of confusion creeping over me, and indeed a little
disappointment.
"Look
in the mirror," cries Suzie. "Look in the darn mirror, Paul!"
Uncertainly
I rise from the table and move to the bathroom. The mirror returns my look of
bewilderment, but wait, there's something more. My mouth is surrounded by the
sumptuous red juices of our wonderful curry! Indian spices are strong in
colour, in flavour and it seems impervious to the discreet dabbings of a
napkin. In horror, I run the hot tap and soak a facecloth. I lather a bar of
soap and scrub and scour with gusto. At last the curry stains transfer from my
face to the cloth.
I creep
back to the dining table and crack a sheepish grin. "Is that better?"
I enquire.
"Oh
honey, the look on your face... and the
curry!" And once more Suzie dissolves in fits of hysterics.
***
Footnote:
If you see us exchange a beaming smile, I mean a big, fat, clownish smile, you
might guess we are secretly reliving that moment.
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