High Colour

I'm a terrible blusher.
Always have been.
It's a curse which has followed me through all of my 55 years on this planet .
I either look embarrassed , pissed or hypertensive at the best of times given my ruddy complexion ( when I was a baby I looked like a fat tomato!!)
And unfortunately with my years advancing the sometimes crippling affection of " the blush from nowhere!" remains with me.

I tell you this secret because I blushed terribly at the land agents' office this morning. I have driven the twenty miles to a little market town up in the hills to drop off the field paperwork and tenancy  agreements as well as the rent payment and couldn't quite locate my wallet from my manbag!
The camp-as-Christmas clerk had already wrong footed me by complementing the bag only a minute or so before , so it was with much embarrassment that I had to empty most of the bag's flotsam in front of him in order to reach the rent cheque.
An almost empty bottle of aftershave, blackcurrant fisherman friends cough sweets, empty envelopes a note book with " weight watcher's recipes" written on the front and George's antibiotics were all hoisted out and as the clerk wryly commented that the bag indeed was " a regular tardis!" 
I blushed like a teenager after he had said it
Like I told you....it's a curse

Blushing often comes in waves , it's almost as though one " attack" sets another off. Only a half hour before the bagblush I had seriously coloured up at the vets when George (who had not been to the vets since he was a puppy) opened his bowels in a fit of nerves in the middle of the waiting room floor.
It was only made worse by William who being half blind stepped in the shitty puddle before I could stop him.

I was still glowing a bit as I took a picture in to be framed at a local art shop.
" is it too warm for you in here?" The shop owner asked politely
" No I'm fine' I said " I've got a cold"

Hey ho