I look into the mirror in the bathroom and I see an unshaven man. Day four without a shave. There is an inflexion point between stubble looking untidy and starting to look rugged. I’m not at the rugged bit yet in my view. Standing close to the mirror is quite revealing. Bags, lines, pores, grey hairs, maybe even a slight hint of receding hairline.
Not sure about that last one. My dad has a full head of hair at seventy nine. It may be my fertile and excitable imagination. I quite like the grey hair bit. Distinguished. There is also sleep in my eyes. It is early. My hair stands up in the mornings. I like it short, number two back and sides with a trim on top. I never comb it. It’s always interesting to see men comb their hair. Some take quite a bit of care over it. Strange I think, perfect combed hair in a man. It isn’t important to me.
Unshaven must mean I am on holiday. I often don’t shave at weekends. It’s a hangover from my rugby playing days when it was important to look tough during a game. I also used to think that shaving might tenderise the skin which is clearly no good before an eighty minute punch-up with a sliver of orange at half time. That sliver of orange used to make me thirstier during the second half as it contained sugar. Nowadays they bring on water at half time and during stoppages. Far more sensible.
They have stopped communal baths though which is taking being sensible too far. Baths were part of the institution of the game. The fact that the water was often filthy was neither here and there. It was always possible to have a shower after the bath. Now health and safety, or at least hygiene has kicked in and the communal bath is no more.
I rarely have a bath these days. Maybe as a bit of a treat on a cold winter’s evening with some of my favourite listeninthebath music. Pink Floyd, Joe Jackson maybe. Sometimes 10cc or ELO although these are not relaxing, more the kind of stuff to liven you up.
I take a book to read in the bath. It’s not the easiest thing, keeping the pages from getting wet. Usually the reading lasts until I get fed up with the awkwardness of keeping the book dry. I then toss the book to the far end of the bathroom to keep it away from the place that is likely to get wet when I get out of the bath. The only downside is having to remember where I got to in the book when I resume reading.
I had a little gleam in my eye when I wrote the bit about tossing the book to the “far end of the bathroom”. Gives the impression that the bathroom is huge doesn’t it? I’ll leave it to your imagination. Picture a balcony opening out from the bathroom with views across the east lawn running down to the Witham.
There is a goat on the lawn. It’s the easiest way to keep the grass down.