So there I was, at my computer, half-dressed, waiting for the dye to take on my remaining pubic hair. Yes, this is one of those candid posts 'For Your Eyes Only', dear reader. This activity - along with dying my hair (on head), shaving legs and putting rollers in my hair (on head) has been conducted in the privacy of my own home all the years of my marriage: easy enough while my husband was at work, very difficult now that he is underfoot all day. This morning though, he was up early and rushed down to his garage from whence it is safe to say he will only emerge at lunchtime, unless he needs emergency surgery, depending on which power tools he is using. Having waited a decent half an hour, gingerly sitting on my chair amidst a great deal of paper towel, I finally went off to shower and eagerly view the results. Nothing! Nada, no colour change, no concealment of grey, it just hadn't worked. On consulting the label, I did notice that the product (mostly henna and hibiscus but with an alarming list of complicated chemicals) was dated 4th October - but which year? I think I must have bought the sachet about three years ago, but it was open as I only use a bit at a time. When was the last time? Could be 12 months ago? (Time flies). Chagrined, I got dressed and went to see what hubby was up to. He was gazing disconsolately at healthy-looking weeds in our driveway which he had sprayed three weeks ago. They are supposed to shrivelled up after 14 days. You've guessed it - last year's opened bottle. Useless. Lost it's 'oomph'. Sometimes it's nice to have something in common to share with your man, although I didn't tell him why I was sympathetic.