We are indeed living in strange times. In these strange times we turn our hand to all sorts of things. You might remember that I got scalped in the joint effort of my daughter and my asylum seeking, house friend. My hair is almost acceptable now it is growing back. I had asked them to be careful so they wielded the shears and clippers for a worrying length of time until I got panicky that the battery would run out and my hair would be lop-sided.
Now I have become a bit of a Vidal Sassoon myself and I am mostly proud of my handiwork. In fact, 95% of the hair cut looks really good even though I say it myself. The last 5%, however, will take a few days to recover. My asylum seeking friend is the victim of my new skill and I know he is rather proud of his appearance so I really was extra careful in making it look good.
Unfortunately, right at the last moment when I was trying to perfect the gradation from longer hair to the cropped bit at the back, I got too close with the clippers and really did do a mini scalping. If I hadn't reacted, I might have got away with it. As I said, my friend is rather vain so he wanted me to take a picture of the handiwork around the back of his head so there was no hiding my slip of the clippers.
As my family will attest, the difference between a good and bad haircut is about three weeks. Because the hair is already short, I think it will be unnoticeable within a few days. In the meantime, I have suggested he wear a cap! In this barmy summer weather no one will notice.
Fortunately, I don't think this small nick in the hairline has soured relations but it might be quite some time before I am asked to do anything like this again. Talking of slips, I had a rather painful one mysef the other day. Once again I cycled ahead into the sunset and sent us down a track that ended in a gate somewhere in Campbell Park.
At the gate I picked up my bike to heave it over and a nice young man offered to help. I didn't want to appear the old dear that I am so I gaily hopped over to rejoin my bike. Unfortunately my foot didn't quite fit in the gap between the railings and I slipped so the decorative loops on top of the gate literally disappeared between my cheeks. I had a leg either side of the gate and I was literally sitting on the fence.
For a moment I contemplated never getting on a bike ever again. I was in the company of men and didn't want to cry out. I really thought I had damaged my nether regions beyond repair. When I got home I thought about taking a selfie just to see what the damage was. (no picture is available for this blog).
A few days later, I can say the pain is a distant memory. On other cycling trips more pleasant things have happened like finding an Indian shop that sold Vitamalt! I won cases of Vitamalt in the Bahamas for running so this drink carries with it a big dose of nostalgia.
Marms, I won't be looking at gates with anything other than abject terror from now on. I remember you had a big aversion to escaping from a boarded up Keppel Railway station and you and I eventually made it to the outside by crawling through a drain. Oh happy times!!
I miss our old adventures. Still missing you as well.
Love
XXX
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