On Make-Up, Manliness, and Mary Davies

The latest ad to infest my inbox is from Boots. They want me to buy some firming booster serum, apparently from their make-up section. Or is it? Does anybody out there know what firming booster serum is? I need to know or else it would be foolhardy to press the SHOP NOW button. Back in my day women only had to tap their cheeks with a powder puff to face the world undaunted, but we didn’t have a retail-based economy in those days.

You know, when I was a kid my mother’s powder puff fascinated me. I used to sneak into her bedroom when she wasn’t around and take it out of its little pot, and then examine it from all angles, and sniff it, and feel the texture of the powder, and all out of a sense of curiosity. Thankfully, I was never tempted to tap my cheek with it. Imagine where I might be now if I had.

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Tonight I’m snacking on:

Scrocchi Italian Crackers

With Sesame and Poppy Seeds

They’re rather nice, but I’m not convinced they’re entirely manly. When I was a kid you got Smiths Crisps with a little bag of salt, or nothing.

That was back in the day when proper men didn’t work in shops, of course. A woman made no bones about that when I worked in a shop. She told me that proper men worked either in manual jobs or offices. Only wimps worked in shops. I would never have got over it if my current love interest, Mary Davies, hadn’t grabbed my hand and held it out for the harridan to see. ‘Look,’ she said with a determined air, ‘he’s got calluses on his hands. Where do you think they came from?’ I would have preferred it if she’d mentioned my rugby playing, but I shall be forever grateful for her support anyway. Imagine where I might be now if it hadn’t been for Mary Davies.