Entry for 12th July, 2008

I am back.
I know that you have all missed me, and your loyalty almost brings a tear to my eye. But sentiment has no place in this blog. I owe it you, my faithful readers, to keep a clear and impartial eye when commenting on the minutiae of my life. If I do not, how wll you know whether I speak the truth or whether my musings are clouded by the mist of subjective emotion.
So, I choke back the tears, and today bring you an unbiased story of my trip to the chemists (how you must have missed me: my life is so exciting: these entries must for you be like epistles from the front: how pale your life is by comparison).
I was buying shaving foam. But today I found myself pausing in the hair dye aisle. My daughter recently announce "Daddy's hair is GREY". (She annonced this shortly before I placed her on the naughty spot, telling her sternly: "Black! Black do you hear. Black like the sleek coat of a stallion in his prime.")
Anyway, her comments must still have been ringing in my subconscious as I passed the shelf containing "Just For Men". the models on the boxes looked so happy - so energetic - so youthful. Rows and rows of them announcing "We're better than you. If outr hair was grey like you, we would be unsuccessful. We would be sad. Women would not look at us."
I hate them - the Just for Men men. They remind me that I am old and past my sell by date. I am on the back nine now, and the clubhouse doesn't look so far away.