I am a feminist. I disapprove of the time and effort modern culture requires to be expended in depilation to make adult women resemble Thai ladyboys. However, I am also vain. Being 6 ft tall and fond of comfortable shoes, I fear that arriving in a Hot Nation with furry thighs and a swimsuit will leave no doubt as to which end of the Oval I bowl from. So I have invested in the instrument of torture known as the Epilator. The last two hours have revealed two useful facts. The first is that pain isn’t what it used to be. The first time I tried one of these I had to give up after 20 minutes and take it back to the shop. All that falling on my head has at least been good for something. The second is that I have a *lot* of scars on my legs. I’m really bad at shaving. Thank god dowager beard-dom remains some years away. The third is that “perfect results in minutes” is either a lie or is based on a test subject with significantly shorter legs than me.