Not too long after our evening meal, my aunt runs a bath and tells me that it’s bath time. I went through exactly the same routine as I had in my youth and frankly I’m flabbergasted that she’s doing it again and I’m letting her. I’m twenty-six, it’s barely 7.30 pm and I’ve been given a bath and am now being put in another nappy. A nappy I’ll stay in until the following morning! “We’ll have to do something about this,” she says as she runs her perfectly manicured fingers over his crooked knee.
“You’ve let them get ever so bristly,” she said. After pulling on a pair of rubber knickers, she had me stand on a towel whilst she took to my legs with a safety razor and plenty of fragrant soap. She must have spent half an hour removing every single hair from the tips of my toes to the tops of my legs.
