Hair Cut

I’m at the barbers behind a long queue. Thank God for free wifi. Then again it may have been easy to
Ask for the password in Mr Politos, but in John Lewis they demanded my email address and mobile number and the right to send me junk mail. I complied to stave off boredom. It access didn’t last long before it forgot who I was and went through the entire procedure again.
Why is public free wifi such a pain? Shirley the idea is to. Ale it available to people easily. Why piss off your customers? The Cloud seems to be the most aptly named wooly service ever. Still, looking a gift horse …
Back to the scalping. I’m in for a #1. I’m aiming to lop off my Jim Broadbent wrap around thinning locks and go for a look that says: honestly I have plenty of hair. It just choose to wear it short.
Thick hair has never been my forte. My hair is fine and was only thick and long at primary school in the 70s where in formed an impenetrable jungle that would not yield to the hack of an unforgiving parent’s comb. I was glad to see the back of it.
I don’t miss the wet after bath shiver. I relish my quick dry scalp. But things are different when I venture out into our post apocalyptic sun. There my pale Pictish skin decays painfully in the radiation. I’m expecting liver stops and lesions in old age. Oh yes, I will look the part if I make 80.
So I’m on for scraping my protective layer off now. 6 ahead of me in the queue. Hence the blogging. Time for my book now( Smut by Alan Benett)

Shopping in the Real World

Completed my real world Christmas shopping yesterday. I don’t get into town on my own very often so it was quite a treat, further enhanced by the fact that I was just buying stocking fillers rather than gloomily hunting for the gift. A more relaxing ride by far.
Christmas shopping to me always about being jostled and appalled by the consumerism. But town was not that busy and the goods on view are simpler than in previous years. I think people have really given up on real world shopping and do 99% of it online now. I know I do. No wonder people are so pissed with Amazon.
It’s not just the prices. Ordering online or by phone saves heaving the damn stuff back to the cave. Then there is the difficulty in parking – including the endless nickel-and-dimming before you’ve even got to the shops. Public transport is no better. Town is hassle.
I bumped into a mandolinist friend and , to drop you in half way, we ended up in a pop-up cigar shop. Neither of us smokers,me were curious if it had always been there. The decor said yes, the assistant said no. The shelved were crammed with boxes of cheroots and single malt whiskies.

“Do you have any empty cigar boxes?” I enquired.
“Not at the moment, but come back. Making a cigar box guitar?” He probed knowingly. I took is number.

A the bus-stop the rain belted off the shiny new LED marquee that flashed up “20 mins”. Changing my length of focus I spotted the Italian cafe across the road.
Inside it was clean and dry. My nostrils filled with the snug aroma of freshly ground and almond croissant. Half way through I remembered I was not driving. It was also Christmas and I’d been fed up all week. The house was empty at home. So a glass of wine arrived [to hell with my medication] chased by a further coffee (not espresso), perhaps subconsciously to mask it’s predecessor. By the end I was more relaxed.
Little in this world can improve upon the simple pleasure of an Italian cafe. In the UK at least.
Soon the bus rolled in and I paid up, pushing my way out to The Fens. I’d get a couple of remaining important things online. Not quite the same experience.

A Day In Hand

I don’t think we have anything planned today, but that doesn’t make it a quiet day (despite me writing this on an iPad from my bed at 8:30). We have to clean the house, write Christmas cards, do Christmas shopping (probably online), make important phone calls, pay bills, FINALLY fix the bathroom cabinet to the wall, buy wood paint, paint the woodwork, de-clutter for Christmas AND, if there is time and he is willing, meet up with an old college for some LCD hacking time.

Where do I begin?

New Hope

Got home this evening after taking the nipper to football, then swimming then a birthday party. After all that he was still bouncing off the walls, full of energy.

So I decided this would be the evening. This would be when I would expose him to it. I put the DVD in, turned the 5.1 surround sound up and settled down I the glow with him.

“This, my boy is … STAR WARS.”

He was … amazed.

Footy

Took the nipper to football practice on Saturday. The ground was hard with frost in the early morning after a chilling night. However by kickoff at 10am it had all melted but I had arrived in normal shoes rather than hiking boots. Needless to say, with dozens of nippers running about in football boots it was soon like The Somme.

I’ve been cooped in as a sort of membership secretary. This means I’m busy for most of the match collecting names on damp flapping A4. It was bitterly cold. Most of the players were kitted out in thick coats and hats whilst the odd one shivered in thin Premiership strips. All had a ball.