March 24, 2006
Martin Newell writes about men and women buying soap:
Now, if I were buying a bar of soap, I would be searching for a buxom-looking object, of a certain size, wrapped in waxy paper, proclaiming the word: SOAP. I would consider about eighty to ninety pence to be a fair price to pay for it. I would bring it home, stick it in a light-green, corrugated plastic soap-dish on the bathroom basin and I would give it no more thought than that..
A woman, on the other hand. A perfectly good Englishwoman-- typically, a mixture of practicality and sea-eyed dreamer, would buy several types of soap. These, so far as a man was concerned, may as well have been brought to earth by a spectral goods-train, drawn by Saturnian sea-horses, its precious cargo hacked from mines found deep on Asteroid XGB123VX . Having purchased the objects, she would then send one pile to her mother, another to her recently-divorced friend and place a further one still, on my bathroom shelf, where it would remain unused for months and months, whilst I idly tried to ascertain what it was. In this country's kitchens and bedrooms, even odder things are appearing and only women know what they are.
Posted by daen at March 24, 2006 02:24 PM