Until having my first child, dry skin has never been an issue for me, but in the last few years my hands look older, my veins more apparent, the lines deeper etched. It probably doesn’t help that most of my time is spent cleaning up after little people with my hands either in soapy water, or in dire need of being in soapy water. But at least at the end of the day I can enrobe them in a silky smooth moisturiser, leaving my skin soft and rich with the scent of cherry blossom.
A lot more appealing than hog’s fat.
Here is an extract from Braving Madness where the hero, Edward, meets his future father-in-law.
His skin was like parchment, pale blue veins embossing the back of his hand, creeping over his knuckles like little streams to wrap about skeletal fingers. The man looked ancient. Truth be told, there had probably been better looking corpses. And yet he couldn’t have been much over sixty, could even have been in his fifties. Clearly life had taken its toll.