I had been working in the garden a few days ago and came inside after I had finished. I was pretty hot and bothered and perhaps sweaty. Okay I was sweaty. As I was drinking my post-work water one of my daughters sat at the table. After exchanging pleasantries and trying to bait compliments from my progeny at my excellent effort in the front yard I suggested I should have a shower.
And she scoffed.
It was no simple scoff either. It was laden with disbelief as if a shower would not cut it.
Being five she is no student of film but I got the impression that she expected that I would need to be stripped down and strafed with a highpressure hose as Rambo was.
Or perhaps she could have been thinking that an automated carwash, sans the surrounding car, might do the trick.
So laden with contempt was that scoff that she was probably thinking that I needed to be autoclaved like an instrument at the dentist clinic.
Maybe even she was considering that a quick dash over to the as soon as possible to be decommissioned Fukushima Daichi Nuclear Power Plant might sterilise the odour sufficiently to allow comfortable social interaction.
I wish I could be as disinhibited as my kids.
Tom
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