Lost in Transit

Little did I think as I journeyed through to Glasgow early this morning sporting my ever present pony tail, that I would return without it - lost in transit, it would appear.

My two youngest daughters had made an appointment for me at a hairdresser’s to have my fringe cut professionally rather than my doing it over the bathroom basin with blunt scissors and no glasses.

Once sitting in a hairdresser’s chair for the first time in about 25 years, I put caution to the wind and got the big chop. This blip may be the last time my hair looks so coiffed as I am notoriously disinclined to spend hours styling it every day. That was why the pony tail was so easy even though nobody liked it, certainly not His Lordship nor it would appear, my daughters.

With Lucy and Nina having their hair cut at the same time, the three generations were ready to hit the town, coffee in John Lewis and after a wander through shops, a lunch of sushi. Now, not only was this my first haircut in a hairdresser’s for decades, it was a first for eating sushi in a proper sushi restaurant. I must say I rather enjoyed the procession of dishes passing the table and picking the ones that appealed. Nina kindly instructed me in the ways of coping with my chopsticks and how to dunk the chosen sushi in the soy sauce.

It was a lovely Mother’s Day present for me, although I thought the other mother in the group, my daughter, was shortchanged. Hopefully, Nina and Ewan will do her proud tomorrow on Mothering Sunday.

The journey back was delayed by the Murrayfield Rugby crowds, but at home there was a note saying I had a parcel waiting for me with the concierge.
No sooner had I collected and opened it to discover a rose plant, chocolates and Prosecco sent from Oman from daughter #3, than daughter #2 appeared with a bottle of raspberry gin. What inebriating delights I can look forward to!

Now I’m trying to catch up with myself, a self I don’t recognise any more in the mirror.