Breeding rejection and creosote

I have always loathed the whole courtship routine, the asking, the dating the whole nine yards, this is yet another reason why I am so resolutely single.

When you think about it what is the likelihood that you will meet your ‘true love’ in a bar or at a sporting event? In fact, given there are 7 billion people in the world what is the chance that you will even like a random stranger. Statistically speaking you are less likely to get on with a random stranger than you are to be murdered by them and turned into cottage pie.*

It just seems to me that a perfectly sensible approach to breeding and the survival of the species is somewhat ruined by the silly belief in this ethereal fantasy ‘love’.

But I haven’t manage to totally escape the whole courtship ritual and the crushing blow of rejection, if only it were that easy. For me it’s tradesmen and I can assure you it’s simply business! I have cajoled and sweet talked various trades into providing estimates and quotations only to be shunned at the last moment.
This is far worse than the spurned advances of my youth, each rejection hits harder than the last. Like some bizarrely charitable hooker I lure the trades in only to be left with cash and no work. How I yearn for the simplicity of ‘I’m washing my hair’ rather than ‘had a lot of work come in’.

We have all seen the advertisements for a well known deodorant which, according to my research, leaves a man fending off amorous advances is there a trades equivalent? If I splash a little creosote on or dab some cement behind my ears will I attract the attention of stonemasons and roofers?

Or, like some lovesick teen, am I destined to not meet ‘the one’**

*actual statistics were not used in this statement

**actually more than one, probably several

Girly shed painting and funny looks

Once again I have to take my hat, well my cap, off to the female of the species. How it is that you cope with the complexities of hair and skin care alone astounds me and that’s before you balance on high heels! After spending far too much time in the hair care aisle debating the relative merits of BoJo and Tenko bean extract I thought that I had least reached stability with my hair, I was naive. My hairbrush has adopted the performance of a combine harvester and the merest sight of it cause my hair to exit stage left.

Hair loss alone would be too easy though, where’s the multi-tasking fun in that after all? A little dermatitis makes for a great complication because conditioner aggravates it and if you don’t wash your hair at least daily you look like you have dandruff. In fact the healthiest my hair has looked in months was after a week off work wearing a baseball cap. Well I say looked healthy but that was only until I brushed it. A bit of research told me that the answer was a shampoo called T-Gel and it was my mission to purchase some today on the way to work, simple enough or it should have been. I headed to Boots whilst in London waiting for my train and found the product, that bit was easy. The look of sympathy I got from the girl at the checkout when purchasing specialist shampoo surprised me until I realised that I am missing a significant portion of an eyebrow. So if the checkout girl from Boots read this then can I just say it’s ok I know it won’t fix that!

After unpacking in my hotel room I ironed my shirts and then hit the shower, oh what joy. First I shampooed with the T-Gel, have you ever used this stuff? At first I was convinced that Boots girl wasn’t showing sympathy she was laughing at the man who brought the joke shampoo. It smells like creosote, not a little bit but as if it was a summer day painting the shed. I persevered and left it for a few minutes as directed and then rinsed it off, so far so good but my hair had taken on a straw like texture. Now apparently you have to repeat this process but here it gets technical, well more technical than I can do. The second wash was as if the fire brigade had dosed me in foam it was like I was having my own foam party in the shower whilst creosoting the walls! Now all you clever women  will explain that this is because my hair was clean  and I didn’t need as much second time around but where was that on the bloody instructions eh? Why is it all in a secret code somewhere, who teaches you this stuff!

Having hosed several gallons, is that the correct measure, of creosote foam from my hair and still not sure if I had changed colour to a deep Ronseal chestnut, I was ready to give up. But now my hair had grown into a straw like mess so I had to attack it with a couple of doses of conditioner. Now the creosote people say that I should use 2-3 times a week so I’m thinking that I should warn the water board.