There was a time when going to bed meant brushing my teeth, stripping naked and jumping under the covers. This is no longer the case.
Be warned, this could be your future!
Naked was first to go. I am sufficiently trendy and cool enough not to wear pyjamas so I bought a selection of rather fetching boxers in the most outlandish colours I could find. These didn't keep the man-boobs warm however so I bought some very bright T shirts too. To my mind, this gives me the American G.I. look and I try desperately to forget that my 84 year old Dad wore the same gear in bed - indeed he died in it! I keep my dear wife entertained each night by choosing the tops and bottoms randomly. I think the burgundy T shirt coupled with the two-tone blue and white striped boxers got the biggest laugh.
Now as you will know, people my age love nothing better than to talk about their ailments. No! Stop! Come back! I wouldn't do that to you dear readers. You are going to have to guess what medical problems I have to bravely endure.
So we'll cut to the chase and imagine that I am in the bathroom dressed as my alter ego G.I. with toilet completed, teeth brushed and mouthwash gargled. So we're maybe 10 minutes into the routine.
First and most important, I swallow a small white pill. (No not a blue diamond shaped one!) Next I apply a transparent gel liberally to both hips and rub it well in. Following that, I rub a thick paste on part of my scalp. Sometimes I use a lotion instead as this particular problem is best attacked with different treatments to keep it on its toes. Speaking of toes, I then spray stuff between them (easy one that!). After this I apply a thick white cream to the soles of my feet and finish up by using the same cream on my hands.
Long after I first entered, I emerge from the bathroom all lotioned, potioned and utterly exhausted.
"What's that dear? You feel like doing what?"
Be warned, this could be your future!
Naked was first to go. I am sufficiently trendy and cool enough not to wear pyjamas so I bought a selection of rather fetching boxers in the most outlandish colours I could find. These didn't keep the man-boobs warm however so I bought some very bright T shirts too. To my mind, this gives me the American G.I. look and I try desperately to forget that my 84 year old Dad wore the same gear in bed - indeed he died in it! I keep my dear wife entertained each night by choosing the tops and bottoms randomly. I think the burgundy T shirt coupled with the two-tone blue and white striped boxers got the biggest laugh.
Now as you will know, people my age love nothing better than to talk about their ailments. No! Stop! Come back! I wouldn't do that to you dear readers. You are going to have to guess what medical problems I have to bravely endure.
So we'll cut to the chase and imagine that I am in the bathroom dressed as my alter ego G.I. with toilet completed, teeth brushed and mouthwash gargled. So we're maybe 10 minutes into the routine.
First and most important, I swallow a small white pill. (No not a blue diamond shaped one!) Next I apply a transparent gel liberally to both hips and rub it well in. Following that, I rub a thick paste on part of my scalp. Sometimes I use a lotion instead as this particular problem is best attacked with different treatments to keep it on its toes. Speaking of toes, I then spray stuff between them (easy one that!). After this I apply a thick white cream to the soles of my feet and finish up by using the same cream on my hands.
Long after I first entered, I emerge from the bathroom all lotioned, potioned and utterly exhausted.
"What's that dear? You feel like doing what?"
