For some time now I have been irritated by how long it takes to shave in the morning and by how poor a shave I was getting notwithstanding. It did not cross my mind that a bit of maintenance was in order.
Eventually, BH takes me in hand and we clean the thing, which is then better but not good. So then I took the rather drastic step of going down to Boots.
Where, having been shown where the shavers were, I found that I needed to know the model number of the shaver, which I had, surprisingly, had the wit to take with me. But the model number was embossed on the plastic case, was not given a contrasting colour, was very small and was very hard to read. Spectacles off and hold the thing about two inches from the right eyeball job. But I think I got there in the end as the new heads are now installed and working nicely.
For just half the price of a new shaver.
Followed this morning by a memory failure, with my being quite confident that the shops in Oxford Street opened at 1100 on a Sunday, while BH was voting for 1200. She was right.
Perhaps we have a bit of sexual dimorphism going on here.
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