Oh, Lordy.

A body with less sense of self worth than myself could be upset. Not me, I take these things on the chin, square jawed and strong shouldered. I am unaffected by the outrage and soldier on manfully.

Yesterday we were chatting in the office about some policy matter, the subject escapes me now, but rest assured that it was of earth-shattering import. We civil servants earn our daily crust; no gossip mongers, we. While we were talking, one of my colleagues, Bev, touched my arm to get my attention and that’s where it all started.

”Ooh, haven’t you got soft skin?”

“Eh?” I responded wittily.

“Your skin. It’s REALLY SOFT”

“Hmm. Er. Yes. Well, thanks. I think…”

“Yeah, it’s amazing! Wha…”

“Er, look, this isn’t the sort of thing a chappish chap likes to talk about in the office, you know. Muskles is one thing, you know, but, well, you know…”

I fancied she took my point, underscored with a stern look as it was and that was that. A couple more pleasantries and then the query that had brought her over and she was off.

This morning however, and the coffee point…

”Ooh, here’s Bryan.”

“Morning, ladies. Just getting my first coffee of the morning!”

“Touch his arm, Ann. He’s got very soft skin!”

“Er. Ooh. Er, blimey. Cripes.” My eloquence was undiminished.

“Oooh yeah. It’s like a baby’s bum!”

“Steady on…”

“My skin’s really rough. What product do you use?”

“Eh? Er. ‘Product’? I don’t use ‘product’…”

“Ooh, your arm’s really silky!”

“Well, I’ve got this stuff I use on my hands…”

I think that’s the point I might have undermined myself, but what’s a chap to do? I wasn’t expecting a two-pronged assault. Still, I have broad shoulders and a thick, if rather soft, skin.

Oh, Lordy.

A body with less sense of self worth than myself could be upset. Not me, I take these things on the chin, square jawed and strong shouldered. I am unaffected by the outrage and soldier on manfully.

Yesterday we were chatting in the office about some policy matter, the subject escapes me now, but rest assured that it was of earth-shattering import. We civil servants earn our daily crust; no gossip mongers, we. While we were talking, one of my colleagues, Bev, touched my arm to get my attention and that’s where it all started.

”Ooh, haven’t you got soft skin?”

“Eh?” I responded wittily.

“Your skin. It’s REALLY SOFT”

“Hmm. Er. Yes. Well, thanks. I think…”

“Yeah, it’s amazing! Wha…”

“Er, look, this isn’t the sort of thing a chappish chap likes to talk about in the office, you know. Muskles is one thing, you know, but, well, you know…”

I fancied she took my point, underscored with a stern look as it was and that was that. A couple more pleasantries and then the query that had brought her over and she was off.

This morning however, and the coffee point…

”Ooh, here’s Bryan.”

“Morning, ladies. Just getting my first coffee of the morning!”

“Touch his arm, Ann. He’s got very soft skin!”

“Er. Ooh. Er, blimey. Cripes.” My eloquence was undiminished.

“Oooh yeah. It’s like a baby’s bum!”

“Steady on…”

“My skin’s really rough. What product do you use?”

“Eh? Er. ‘Product’? I don’t use ‘product’…”

“Ooh, your arm’s really silky!”

“Well, I’ve got this stuff I use on my hands…”

I think that’s the point I might have undermined myself, but what’s a chap to do? I wasn’t expecting a two-pronged assault. Still, I have broad shoulders and a thick, if rather soft, skin.