Boy, Was My Face Read

That’s what you get when your emotions are easily perceived…people read you like a newspaper. Which is fine until they get to the obituaries.

I have to keep reminding myself to be inscrutable. Some people are thought to be able to do it naturally, but I am more demonstrative. I have been known to raise a lip or an eyebrow as a signal for disdain, and it is never at the right moment. And when the minister asks you whether you take the woman to be your lawfully wedded wife bursting out in snorting laughter is never good. I’ve tried all sorts of things to avoid this but every time the church goes quiet, I don’t.

You’d think that a look of delight or a happy smile would be acceptable anywhere, wouldn’t you. Try it at a crematorium and see what happens. Is it me, or is it hot in here?

I do practise in front of a mirror in an attempt to remain calm. The eyebrows level, the mouth in an even line, the eyes focussed at about 2000 yards away. Done well, you look dignified, or at least shell-shocked. But as soon as your hair stands on end or your nose starts running it gives the game away.

Actually, these last few years with the mask-wearing have been the easiest time I’ve had. You can’t see much under the paper and I can wear a sardonic grin while rushing to pull the granny from under the steam roller. It’s not quite the same as being the Lone Ranger, but Hi-Yo anyway…

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