My eyes are large, with dark circles – as the Spanish say, “God put her eyes in with a sooty thumb”‘
My hair is wild, Janis Joplin crossed with Jimi Hendrix. There’s a nice man – Matthew – in Percy Street who tames it for me. But if there’s no time, I’ll happily pop on a wig or hat or, if it’s not too hot, both.
My eyes are large, with dark circles – as the Spanish say, “God put her eyes in with a sooty thumb.” Teeth, nondescript. Lips, full – less so now, which allows me to wear red lipstick without looking like a sex worker.
I’m small, but have always thought of myself as tall. I stand straight, with one of my two children welded to each hip. I am strong – years of ballet as a child have assured that my legs would not look out of place in a football squad lineup.
I’m a mixture of my father and my mother inside and out – Welsh and Scottish with a dash of English.
My best feature is my smile, and I suppose it will remain my best feature for ever. After all, a happy, toothless, withered old crone smiling at you is better than a grumpy, toothless, withered old crone snarling at you.