Trying Too Hard

A funny thing happened on the way to work yesterday, I know that sounds like the start of a Frankie Howerd monologue, but in this case nothing funny about it.   I was driving on my way to my first customer of the day, contemplating the prospective joy of a day doing some proper gardening in the sunshine, when I just happened to notice a group of people on the  forecourt of a car sales lot / petrol station.   What attracted my attention was the one woman in the group, quite tall, very well dressed if a little too glamorous for the situation.   She also seemed to have slightly too much bouncing wavy blond hair.

Most passers by would, I am sure, not have noticed anything unusual, or indeed would have given the group a second glance, but that combination of height, hair and short skirt set my T-Dar into overdrive.   Checking my mirror as I passed I am convinced that here was a sister.    Maybe I'm being unfair and she had a reason to be dressed up to the nines, she would have blended right in in the West End, but certainly caught my attention in a petrol station in Sidcup.

I'm afraid when I started to think about this I was reminded of the old Denim Aftershave advert "For Men Who Don't Have to Try Too Hard"

One of my friends was particularly fond of "denim" I never quite got round to telling him that adverts lie.