Post lockdown haircut day: my hair is tidied up. Embracing its four months growth, I kept a softer look; I celebrate my grey.
The faded bench in the garden; mature silvered teak, bought at an offer price we could barely afford over 30 years ago, has also had a face lift. There was an advert in the Sunday paper, declaring it to be a bargain. I sent off the coupon, with a cheque, posted in a small brown envelope. That was how we bought things in the eighties.
It’s lasted well, done good service. But it was beginning to look in need of a little care. ‘Maybe it needs some oil’, I said, ‘to keep it moisturised’. No sooner said than done, Mr A is nothing if not thorough. He likes things kept in shape.
I came home to find him hard at work. ‘That oil looks dark’, I said. ‘I hope that it will fade.’ ‘It’s wood stain’, he replied. ‘Teak. I couldn’t find the oil.’ He stood back, agreed it didn’t look so happy with its fake tan look. He power washed it, but the stain has sunk in deep. Perhaps it will fade back over time, we agreed.
He’s repentant and forgiven. And we’re both a little sad. It’s only a bench, past its prime, but still much loved. It’s screaming at us rather loudly, rather than blending in right now.