I lived in London for six years. I passed through Vauxhall Tube Station (London’s grimiest tube station TM) on a regular basis. I can walk past panhandlers, tramps, Big Issue sellers and gangs of teenage boys with the stoniest of stony faces. (Inside, of course, my heart is like butter, but they don’t need to know that.)
But stepping outside here I see bright colours everywhere. The hot blue sky, the reds and greens of the buildings in Woodstock, palm trees and lilies on the side of the road, Table Mountain for background. I see this outside my front door …
… and I feel the corners of my mouth creeping up. So for the past two days I’ve been walking around Woodstock biting my cheeks. I hope it looks like a Mean Face. I have a suspicion, though, that it looks like a Stupid Face.
(Sorry about the flash reflection … it was dark in my room and I was in a hurry. Also, there’s only so long I want to make faces at myself in the mirror.)