The seven-year itch

A comb for getting rid of head lice.

Kate and I have been married for seven years today. We’ll be celebrating by going out for a meal without children later – our first date since our anniversary two years ago – but haven’t bothered with presents. Not to worry though; the kids have dealt with that. Dylan and Xander put their heads together and came up with a rather unusual anniversary gift. Head lice.

The early portion of the summer holidays has been characterised by medicated shampoo, a vicious white comb and shouts of annoyance from the bathroom whenever Kate checks Dylan for tiny hitchhikers.

Even though we don’t seem to have been affected, we’ve both been frantically scratching our heads since discovering them on the boys. So I’m definitely counting these phantom lice as unwanted gifts. A new take on the famous seven-year itch! I suppose we have been lucky to avoid them until now. Dylan is six and Xander is four. It has been a good run, to be fair.

As we don’t know whether they originated at school or pre school, we can’t point the finger at anyone. Nor would we. Though inconvenient, these things happen and are manageable. All parents have to deal with them at one time or another and I’m sure most do their absolute best to stop nits in their tracks.

I will, however, name and shame some individuals for the spread of head lice in our corner of East Sussex. Ordinarily, I would not criticise a business, particularly a family-run one, but these guys deserve it. I blame the characters from The Furchester Hotel.

A screenshot of The Furchester Hotel.

Despite their mantra of never giving up, their hotel is an omnishambles so I assume their cleanliness it questionable too. And how do they have ideas? By rubbing their heads together.

So thanks for nothing, you furry bastards. Your distant relative Oscar the Grouch may well live in a dustbin, but he keeps his parasites to himself in so doing! And why don’t the Furchesters want people to leave? They know their secret will get out – their guests are itching to tell people and they know it.

So there you go. Kate and I will doubtless be discussing this seven-year itch in further detail over dinner. We won’t be dining in a certain hotel…

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