ANYTHING LEFT FOR ME?

If you could have seen me lately, perhaps you had dared to tell me to go to the hairdresser at once.
But I have a (morbid) fear of hairdressers and it took me quite a while to decide I had to visit one before I would travel in Friday and have to go in The Hague to the one round the corner there.
I was new in the saloon, could conceal easily my trembling heart, and tried to relax and even enjoy it a bit.
Firstly the terrible asking of how I wanted my hair cut, I had figured it out that I would be bold enough to ask if they had a magazine where I could indicate what I had in mind. Oh that was an easy one, I could look and choose of course. I do not know if you are familiar with those magazines, they start with very short hair and proceed till abundant waves of hair on the shoulders of charming young women. This I prefer I indicated a very short cut, but a bit longer. That was very ok.
Then I suddenly found it easy to ask if I could take the cut hair with me because I had yesterday learned from a blipfriend that birds love to have cut hair for the making of a warm nest.
It all went well beyond what I had feared.....
Before I had entered the saloon I had visited my duck friends, who were glad that I had brought again some food, I then did not see the swan pair and only when I walked back along the Weser, there they were, at the other side of the river.
A small world, you may think, and I tell small things of this small world, because the big world is so wide and sometimes incomprehensible.
After reading the book of Monika Plessner, I had decided to read a book by Helmuth Plessner, Die verspätete Nation, his first book.
Difficult sentences at every page, but the intention of it I did not fail to understand. Now we live in Germany most of our time, it is a good thing to deepen my knowledge of the history of this amazing country.

I want to thank you all for your nice comments, stars and hearts (it is not any longer possible to find out everyone who gave them, in this new policy of Blipland) on the portrait of my talking duckfriend.

My haiku:

I am late, I'm late
The duck seems to repeat the
Words of the White Rabbit

And the proverb:

To sow one's wild oats.

(= to indulge in youthful vices)

1576  in Newton, Lemnie's Complex.