H is for ....

Well, not hologram.

The day started breezily enough. Sun was out, cleaned the house. Yogamama came down, we had lunch in the garden and played kalooki. 

Went in to town to get my hair cut. As I walked in The Rhino, our mad (and I mean mad not by a small margin) Italian barber yelled "Christ, what the f**k happened to you". "Grew it long" I said "for a hippy party". Whilst I waited my turn he remonstrated with a friend who had popped in with some changes to local ward boundaries. "Sheerwater!" he yelled "I'm now living in f***ing Sheerwater? You have got to be kidding. I am not a snob but ..." For an Italian he did have an extraordinarily good grasp of anglo-saxon.

He tugged at my tangled locks in exasperation. "Sorry" I said. Then we got onto cars, a topic which he has an inexhaustible interest in and I find boring, but he was interested to know that we had had a corvette stingray and a panther lemur in the family at one point. 

Hair trimmed and layered I met up with TSM and the Yogamama and we did some shopping before heading home for more kalooki and cooking supper. It was here that I earned the H on my forehead by walking into a very sharp (laterally hinged) cupboard door which produced a deep cut and a very unpleasant pain. Yes, H stands for Hopeless. Normally it's knives but it makes a change to cut myself on something else. TSM plastered my forehead for me and even helped with the H. Well you have to have a laugh at your own misfortune don't you ...

Anyway there have not been any side effects such as concussion, disorientation or odd behaviour and I feel perfectly normal matron where's the invisible strawberries I'm a teapot I'm a teapot do you know the way to san jose I'm walking backwards for Christmas ....