The grass is riz
I wonder where them birdies is
It's a silly little rhyme attributed to Ogden Nash which my father was fond of reciting.
Spring may be the time of new life, grass and birds but it is equally the time where boots and long pants are exchanged for sandals and shorts.
So rather than thinking about birds and bees I find myself thinking about hairy legs and hideous toe nails.
I panic - not yet enough to start felling the forestation of the legs. Let's start at the bottom and work our way up. That means the urgent services of a woman with a hot foot bath, the equivalent of a cheese grater to remove dead skin and a new colour. This makeover happened while the colour was being applied to my hair. So now we only have to get to the mountain of jobs in between.
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