We all arrived home in three cars at the same time last night, although Al had left earlier than the rest of us to phone in his orders from the shop for the next day. The drive went from dark tranquillity to a blaze of headlights. I took the bag of money and cheques and it was put away safely and I put the kettle on for tea, but I never got around to making it. I opened a bottle of Rioja first and we lounged around talking instead.
Ro’s hair has grown long and Weeza was asking him about his beauty routine. He hasn’t really got one, he said. She advised him on haircare and recommended a hairdryer with a diffuser. Then she wanted to know about his face. “You do moisturise?” she asked sternly. “No” said Ro, looking alarmed. Weeza tutted. “You are reaching the age when you can’t neglect your face. What do you use to wash with?” She was unsatisfied with the answer. “Wet or dry shave?” Wet, and at least he has a shaving cream of choice – he couldn’t remember the name but it’s Italian. “What kind of scent do you like”, she enquired.
We were all in fits of laughter as a bemused Ro answered politely. Eventually, Weeza went to bed and so did the Sage. “How does Phil cope?” demanded Ro. “If this is what marriage is like, I think I’ll stay single. I’d forgotten that living with Weeza was like this” We decided that Phil lets it all wash over him and takes no notice.
The next morning … “Do you exfoliate?”
Wink was taking Ro back to Norwich as she was visiting someone for lunch. As I was kissing him goodbye “Check out his complexion,” she advised. As if I’d do such a thing – anyway, there’s nothing wrong with his complexion. After they’d left, Weeza chuckled. “It’s a lot of fun, winding up Ro,” she said. “He takes it so seriously.”
Nevertheless, I suspect he will receive a full set of skincare products for C*******s.