The Ballad of Liz and James - 3
The Girlfriend is trying to teach me American but I’m struggling,
it’s so different from English. On the first morning on my latest
Austin trip I’d showered, and brushed my teeth and taken my
multivitamins. All I had to do was moisturise and I’d be ready to
face the day. (Hey, don’t mock Yank! Personal grooming is an
essential element of the self-esteem of the late middle-aged
Englishman!) I picked up the nearest bottle on the bathroom shelf. I
didn’t have my specs on, and my eyesight makes Mr Magoo look like a
watchmaker, but I could just about make out “cream” so I applied
it liberally. I continued dressing then checked myself in the mirror.
Yup, pretty good. Clearly the moisturiser was taking a while to be
absorbed, (to be honest I looked like an extra in a low budget Kabuki
play), but what the hell, give it time. I went downstairs to where
The Girlfriend was making breakfast in the kitchen.
“Hey Lover! What’s for breakfast?”
She looked up from her toast and coffee.
“What the hell have you got on your face?”
“Just some of your moisturiser. It’s taking a while to sink in.
You don’t mind me using it do you? ”
“What moisturiser? It sure as hell doesn’t look like
“It was on the bathroom shelf. White bottle with blue writing.”
“THAT’S NOT MOISTURISER! THAT’S MY COOCHY CREAM YOU ASSHOLE!
AND IT’S EFFING EXPENSIVE!”
“Coochy? What the hell’s a coochy? What the hell’s coochy
“Oh My God!” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “What do you mean
what’s a coochy?” making somewhat inappropriate gestures towards
what I can only describe as her lady-garden. “How can you not know
what a coochy is when you spent half the night yelling “The British
Are Coming?” That baby don’t shave itself you know! Brits!”
Understanding slowly dawned.
She took another drink of her coffee.
“What do you call it anyway.”
I had to think about that. I couldn’t actually think of a word the
Chronicle could print.
“I’m British. We’re too polite and reserved for words like
“I think you mean repressed.”
I climbed back upstairs to the bathroom. I hate waste, and I probably
needed a shave anyway.