The Spike


January 2017

Adventures in eye cream


I have come to the conclusion that the only eye cream that makes any difference that I can see is Lansinoh. Amalgamating all the things I’ve read about eye cream (though it’s all just such rank bullshit) it seems that general eye tiredness, puffiness, dark circles and so on is mostly – not totally but mostly – dehydration.

So if one is to take advantage of the quiet January hibernation pact with fellow road-travellers a way to wake up with better eyes is to do this: go to bed at a reasonable hour, having had not more than one glass of wine, drink a glass of water, take your make up off, apply night face cream then Lansinoh around your eyes. In the morning you will not look like Karlie Kloss, but you will look better than if you had not done it.

To maximise the effect of all your various unguents, wash your face and apply these creams about an hour before you go to bed, so’s not to have to try to get to sleep with a sticky face.

You will now all tell me that this or that amazing cream is amazing for eyes. And that’s all very well but the fact is that I doubt they are appreciably better than Lansinoh, and it is only £7. Eight-Hour Cream also works – and we’ve all got a tube of that somewhere.


Being as I am a veteran of newspapers and magazines, the onslaught of detox, get-fit-for January pieces are such a horrible inevitable cliche that it makes me want to shut my hand in a door.

And yet, if anyone ought to be reading them, it’s me. I fell full foul of the Christmas all-you-can-eat bonanza. All that booze, too. No exercise. Fresh air, but not enough. Dark afternoons. I am spotty and grey with lines like tide marks under my eyes, round my mouth. Every morning in the mirror I’m like “Who is that old woman wearing my pyjamas?” My jeans are operating at maximum capacity.

But I know better than anyone that an about-turn is never the way to sort out one’s life or weight. Not that I know how much weight I’ve put on as I am too scared to look. One has to back quietly away from a fortnight of drinking and eating everything in sight rather than screaming “I’M LEAVING” in its face.

Plus I always worry slightly that a period of excessive drinking changes my DNA to the critical point of dependence, whereby if I was to stop drinking entirely I might have a stroke.

I know what it is that I have to do in order to get back to normal, it’s just a question of settling back into that zone, the white-fish-and-greens dinner, no-drinking-during-the-day routine. And getting those kids back in school, who send me screaming to the treat tin at around 3.30pm and screaming towards the Zinfandel at around 7.05pm.

Meanwhile, here are some pictures of spring flowers to get you in the mood for the new year. I am not a fascist about taking Christmas decorations down – but I insist that when I do take them down, ( January 3rd or thereabouts), they are immediately replaced with fresh flowers, otherwise it’s just too sad.

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