We set off at around two in the afternoon on our westward journey. It had been fairly mild over the previous few days, especially for the time of year... and was now about fourteen degrees Celsius (around fifty-seven Fahrenheit). It had been years since I had been a passenger in a campervan; it wasn’t just Laura that was like a kid that day, I got a silly exuberance from sitting in the back.The roads were not that busy and it took less than two hours to get to Salisbury where we had planned to. One gurl painted allher toes save one). This is symptomatic of the subconscious thoughfutile struggle to retain the last vestige of surrendered or lostmasculinity. These can be aggravatingly, nay maddeningly,tenacious. (Like weeds in the lawn.) One could let it go tocorrect itself; she's going to hear about it from the other gurlsand that may be enough. (Note though, it REALLY puts men off ifthat's desirable.) Telling her it looks goofy won't work; sheknows that. An appeal to hygiene and logic. More

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