The difficulties of being a modern metrosexual

A different weekend for me. If I asked friends or family to describe me, two adjectives that would unlikely to crop up are 'practical' and 'groomed'.

My family tend to roll their eyes whenever my wife, Jane, tells them that I am putting a shelf up or changing a fuse (it's just an example, she doesn't really tell them each time I change a fuse) - they have memories of me struggling with such tasks. You cannot begin to imagine how they shrank in horror when Jane told them I had bought a chainsaw and was clearing trees at the back of our old house in Glen Urquhart. As they saying goes, if you want something doing properly, pay someone who is better qualified to do it... well that's my version of the saying.

And grooming? Why? How can I improve upon perfection? Will moisturising really make me live longer? Feel healthier? Earn more? OK, some of my pupils may look at me strangely when, on some days, my eyebrows protrude at ninety degrees to my face, or I have a 'pillow-ridge' in my hair. But, as long as my appearance does not cause them to crash, does it matter?

Much to the dismay of Jane, Rachel and Anna, my 'beauty regime' is as follows:

Daily: Shower, shave, clean teeth (x2).

Monthly: Let Jane give me a No.2 crop, although I will stand out in the garden and do it myself if it is a nice day (saves vacuuming).

Simple! No need for combs, conditioners or cleansers! And, no need for mirrors either - what are waste of time they are. In fact, if I do try to use a mirror to shave or cut my hair it can go horribly wrong. I remember my 18th birthday: I was invited to the wedding of Alison's brother so I thought I would use a mirror to make sure I got a really thorough shave. What a mess! I still had bits of tissue soaking up the blood as we were in the car on the way to the church.

Actually, I'm not a total troglodyte: I have been known to let Jane attack my brows with tweezers when they get too long for her to stand. And I have had my legs waxed on a couple of ('anaesthetised') occasions..... for charidee, mate.

So, with a bit of background now, you may be able to understand why (as I said at the start) this has been a different weekend for me. Not only have I been doing something manly and practical as decorating the kitchen, but I have also done something very un-manly, but well-groomed.... I had a manicure.

I know I'm supposed to use scissors, or clippers, but when my nails get within 3mm of the tips of my fingers I simply tear the tip of the nail off. Sometimes it goes wrong, but there is rarely much blood. Now Jane used to be trained in acrylic nails. Since we sold our pub in Cambridgeshire she has missed the freedom of being her own boss, so she has decided to retrain to do sculptured acrylic nails. She even has a fake hand clamped to her workstation so that she can practice (at least, I think it's fake). Anyway, she has been asking me to grow my nails so that she could give me a manicure as part of her practice. So, Saturday evening, we are watching Total Wipeout (I would LOVE to have a go on that programme) while Jane gives me a manicure and I am hoping that our neighbours don't happen to look through our window. Consequently, my nails now look perfectly rounded, trimmed and polished, with no ridges (or clotted blood).

The next day was set aside for decorating. My decorating used to be a running joke - I would always end up with more paint on me than on the wall. These days it's a different story, there is definitely less paint on me than the wall - I measured the areas. We weren't too sure about the colour. Our kitchen used to be nice and sunny, but now it looks a bit serene and cool. Actually, it has now grown on me and I quite like it, so all that manly effort was worthwhile.... even if it did play havoc with my nails.