When my mother had her cataracts done the one downside was the realisation her skin was no longer smooth – more bark than balm, as she thought it. Not that she really minded. She just wished she’d realised.
I found myself buying a suit last week and it was an almost novel experience. I’ve not needed one for two decades. But I’ve changed and, in truth, my suits are a bit like mum. Surprised at their condition. So I asked the factotum if his suits wrinkled. Well, his nose did.
‘If you want smooth then buy polyester.’
He didn’t say that but his expression suggested as much.
I went for a linen mix. I might look like a jobbing architect but at least the wrinkles enhance the look.
The one member of my family that did wrinkles well was Dad. He wreathed himself in them, at moments of great joy.
First pint, foreign holiday, family celebration, that sort of thing.
And he had a way of capturing the absurdity of our youthful vanities in poetry form. Much to admire really.
The Wrinkles Lament
When we gaze in the mirror while shaving
We mustn’t get too uptight,
Though the sight makes us weep
Beauty’s only skin deep,
And we’re bound to look better tonight.
*
Sparse locks on an over-wide forehead
Where once clustered nonchalant curls,
If dissuaded from roaming
By judicious combing
Just might deceive short-sighted girls.
*
We’ve always had finely drawn features
But the nostrils in that Roman beak
Which in wild youth would flare
Are now full of hair,
And constantly saltily leak.
*
Our eyes, which held loves sweet secrets,
Were mysterious, soft – dark as night,
Now they’re bloodshot and runny
And one’s a bit funny,
Looking left when the other looks right.
*
These firm chiselled mouths show good breeding
But today they can spoil our adventures
For though you feel sporty
It’s hard to be naughty
If you find you’ve forgotten your dentures.
*
Girlish breath in the ear was exciting
In our youth, we recall with nostalgia,
But now, poor old mugs,
If you blow down our lugs,
We’ll get an attack of neuralgia.
*
But it’s wrong to become introspective
That mirror can ruin our fun,
Let’s stop shaving today
Chuck our razors away
Grow beards – and think we’re twenty-one!
TanGental 
HAHA! I love it Geoff, especially about the eyes looking different ways! Another of your Dad’s classics:-)
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He lived for and by his poetry. I think he was inspired by Fred Wedlock The Oldest Swinger On Town.
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That was such a fun song, Geoff and always makes me laugh when I hear it. 🙂
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You look more like your Mum I think, but both parents seem to have aged well. Your Dad is/was a handsome bloke.
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He’d be touched and flattered and them Spend the next four hours preening… and yes there’s a fair bit of mum in me.
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This is hysterical. I loved it and read it to Hubby who is also chortling over there!
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He knew how to capture an essential truth
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Happy memories Geoff.
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Oh, I love it! 🙂 Thanks so much for sharing your Dad’s charming poetry parody. Wonderful family photos too!
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Thanks Bette
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What wrinkles? Humph…I have noticed that many of my school friends have developed crow’s feet round the eyes but glasses are a fabulous invention. They hide the wrinkles when they’re on and you can’t see them when they’re off.
BTW no doubt you’ve heard of the demise of the Australian cricket team after this ball tampering incident. As you know, I don’t follow the cricket but I did see Steve Smith and the bowler confront the media last night on TV and they are broken, shattered men. There’s some real pontificating going on and as the Prime Minister said, Australians have higher expectations of the cricketer’s moral code than politicians and I’d have to second that.
However, the fact that three of them out of 11 were in on it, says something bigger was going on to me but that isn’t being discussed to my knowledge in the media. There’s just a lot of shaming, disapproval and a realization that our cricket team is up the creek. For many Australians, this is akin to a death in the family.
What’s been the talk over there?
I’m touching on this is a post I’m putting up shortly about mistakes. Stay tuned.
Best wishes & Happy Easter,
Ro
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Well I think it’s a bit ott on all honesty
If you look at the ICCs own rules the maximum ban for this is one Match. Ball tampering is a level 2(out of 4) offence. Maybe the ICC are wrong too in that is too light but 1 year and public excoriation is going a bit far. As for politicians holding the moral high ground.. very self serving. Must be having their own problems I’d guess. Shame because Smith is a phenomenon and worth watching.
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I tend to wear a linen jacket in the summer and it gets terribly creased for, in the heat, (as Noel Coward memorably put it)
The English Garb
of the English Sahib
Only gets a bit more creased!
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Spot on
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Your dad is as much of a classic as your mum! 💗
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He was a one… A sod at times but a laugh wasn’t far from the surface
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I think that is perfect!
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Fabulous,as ever! And I envy your Dad’s talent…💜
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Me too
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Well we agree on that then 💜💜🌹
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He summed it all up quite perfectly really 🙂
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He nailed it didn’t he?
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You Dad sounds like a jolly good sort, Geoff.
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He was. A pain at times but that just makes him what he was… A dad
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Delightful poem!
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Thanks Jan. One of my favs
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Oh, this is awesome. What a humorous man your father was! Two fantastic and classy people!
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He had a great sense of humour to counterpoint the times when he was an irritating little bugger….
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Oh, I am sorry to hear that… but often when people get older they change to the opposite… which sometimes even is a blessing.
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Exactly how one feels today with a streaming cold and looking every day of my ** years! That portrait of him with the pint pot is an extraordinary photo – it could win a prize.
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He always did model the pint well. Hope you perk up soon
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He was good
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