The Men From Where?

As I was trudging grumpily through the town wondering why my skin has seen fit to erupt in painful lesions, I was struck by an idea. I’ve got out of the habit of writing down ideas but I decided then and there, by the bandstand with its sad, damp, abandoned deckchairs, to get back into it. So I took out my notebook and wrote it down. I thought maybe it could be about my time at the yoga centre in Madrid, a sort of updated Oh Brother!

My skin (or some of it) has for reasons best known to itself decided to erupt in painful red spots around the nose and mouth. Fortunately this is the area covered by a face mask but I can’t wear one all the time so sometimes people are exposed to the unsightly view. I wouldn’t mind so much if it was sore and itchy without being disfiguring, or the other way round. So far I’ve tried steroid cream, calendula, tea tree and both coffee and honey face masks (ie face packs). For a while I thought the calendula was working but yesterday it flared up again so who knows. I may have to go to the doctor with it, which will not be straightforward.

Previous experience does not lead me to be hopeful; in my teens I had a similar skin condition all over my face. I saw a load of doctors and tried dozens of creams but to no avail. In the end it cleared up by itself.

And the sitcom title? The Men from the Monastery. Good, eh?

Kirk out