Mr Robinson looked on to his drive. The fence his neighbour had erected was swaying slightly in the wind. Mr Robinson smiled. He turned away to get on with his day.
Into the bathroom. Yesterday, whilst cleaning out his hall cupboard, Mr Robinson had found his wet shaving gear, put away since last Christmas, having been given a new electric razor by his nephew. Well, he had given it a try, but it wasn’t quite the same. Today, he would return to the way things ought to be. He had cleaned and replaced the blade in his razor, so he could just begin.
He ran the tap to get the water to just the right temperature, and wet his face with his hands. Next, he took the brush, and began working-up a lather by first wetting the brush, and then swirling the brush around the cup full of soap (none of those foams nor gels for him).
The brush swirled around in the cup, creating the lather, and Mr Robinson gave thought to his neighbour whilst engaged in the repetitive task. The new fence had been a bone of contention, with Mr Robinson not wishing to see any fence. There hadn’t been one there for the last thirty years, but the Tullivers had only been there for six months, and they had made a lot of changes to both building and gardens. It was their property, and they could do what they liked with it, but Mr Robinson had a fixed smile, rather than a responsive one on his face when he had the misfortune to have to talk to them.
The lather was well on the way to the right consistency, not too wet and not too dry — too dry and the razor would stick, whilst too wet and the soap mixture would drop off his face, which would never do.
They had asked him what kind of fence he would prefer as it was their responsibility to erect it, but wished to take in the wishes of their neighbour who had lived there all those years. He had, of course, stated a preference for no fence at all, but they had been insistent, and quickly stopped asking him about it.
Mr Robinson had not been pleased, and when he saw what they had chosen, a very rigid, overlapping timber fence, he was really annoyed. That fence was never likely to blow down, or be damaged for a very long time. Every time he came home and saw the new fence, his annoyance became intensified. It meant that he no longer felt relieved to be back home after having to interact with the world.
The lather was just right, and Mr Robinson used the brush to apply it to the whiskers on his face. It was soothing to him, and he anticipated the pleasure of the razor scraping away the growth, none of that dry electric whine anymore.
Yesterday, when Mr Robinson was reversing his car into his drive, his foot had slipped on the brake, and he had hit the first post of the fence. He hadn’t meant to do that, but the loud cracking noise was so pleasing to him. The first post was an accident, but the second one was not so much. It also resulted in a loud crack.
Mr Robinson picked up the razor, and thought of the fence swaying in the wind, as he applied the razor to his face. This time, his smile was more fluid than fixed. The razor sliced open his cheek, and the blood began to stain the sink.
Fraser
November 2024