Does it show?

Some of the men in my life have been having a bit of a rest.  The Long Suffering Husband has torn a calf muscle (I keep telling him that sport is bad for you) and my Dad has cashed in his frequent flier hospital miles points for a stay in a private room on a cardiac ward. I've been at work, leaping around trying to get small children to be enthusiastic about Christmas songs.

On the way back from visiting my Dad I stopped in at Sainsbury's, to fulfill the LSH's shopping list.  On the end of an aisle were 6 angel headbands for 50p each.  With a nativity to perform at the Royal Albert Hall that seemed like a bargain.  I picked them up and wandered around the store in a bit of a daze.  I hadn't got a basket because you don't need one for bread, butter and an elasticated bandage.  Absentmindedly checking out the Christmas decorations a woman caught my eye and smiled.
"Teacher?" she asked.
"Er, yes, I suppose I am," I replied wedging the butter more firmly under my arm pit.
She nodded, wisely and said, "Yes, I can tell."
I checked my hair.  No pencils wedged in my pony tail.  I glanced down to check my trousers for small handprints.  Nothing.
She nodded towards my hand.

"And the fact that you look knackered."
I couldn't disagree.
"I don't suppose you even know if you need them but you can't pass up a bargain like that near Christmas when there are nativities to do."
They are nice angel headbands, though.