Two weeks ago I walked in to a lamp post.  I was just minding my own business, looking up across the green to the top of the hill to see if I could see which was our house, and it came out of nowhere.  It bled a bit (My head.  Pretty sure the lamp post was ok).  Then it did this:

Then it did nothing.  I’d hoped for at least an impressive purple bruise to match the pain levels, but it just went that mouldy yellow colour a few days later an that was it.  Quite disappointing really.

This week I was putting on my makeup.  I don’t wear much makeup – not enough to look younger (I use the Zoom filter for that, and thank my lucky stars that none of my clients ever see me in real life), but just enough that I don’t end up actually scaring people.  I’ve been wearing the same make up, put on in the same order, for years.  Until last week when I had some sort of brain fart and put my mascara on, followed directly by my powder.  The wet mascara transferred itself under my eyes and the powder brush liberally smeared it above and around.  It looked like the lamp post aftermath should have looked…

And then I woke up with burst blood vessels in one eye.  I can only assume at this point my face has just given up.

And the reason I tell you this?  Because the Pog Blog used to be entirely about my daftness.  And I suspect sometimes between looking out for Mum and Dad and step mumming I might come across as someone who knows how to adult these days.  And I just wanted to assure you that is absolutely not the case.  I am entirely winging all aspects of my life, as I am sure the vast majority of people reading this are.  I just wanted to make that clear 😁