Rentrée chop

For Mr B this time, CarbBoy wasn’t keen. I offered to cook dinner tonight and was surprised at Mr B’s fast ‘yes’ - normally when I offer lately he has the next few nights planned and I have to book in. When I went to the kitchen I understood. No potatoes and next to no veg. So I pulled together a venison shawarma with various trimmings, including home made pittas. Delicious, but a bit carb-light compared to our usual fare.

And that brings us back to the hair. I was part way through the pitta dough when Mr B asked for a haircut. But was not prepared to wait 5 minutes for me to finish the dough. Muttering ‘well George Clooney cuts his own’ he disappeared outside with the trimmers. I did point out that a guard comb thing might be useful, but I could probably have done that earlier and louder. Five minutes later, with the dough in a good place, he wandered back in and asked if I could just tidy it up. You know the bit in the movie where the teenage runaway hacks off her hair with nail scissors? Yep. Like that, but with bits shaved to the skin.

Hats may be worn for video calls for a few weeks...

And yes, I think seeing his dad is what put CarbBoy off having a trim.

In other news, lots of gardening, garden planning, and a good chat with my pal C. The real world starts again tomorrow.