Today began with a late start – leaving the house in time to arrive at the local hair cutting establishment just as they opened for the day. I chose the one filled with friendly ladies this time, rather than the alternative round the corner staffed by a grump guy that complains better than a taxi driver if given the chance.
A voluptuous polish lady cut my hair with an attention to detail I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. She apologised at one point as she obsessed over blending in my short-back-and-sides – or at least I think that’s what she was doing. She did laugh when I explained my choice of haircut:
“If I have it like this, I don’t actually have to do anything when I get out of the shower on a morning”.
Somewhere along the way in our conversation she didn’t ask if I wanted any wax in my hair, so I left looking like a choir boy from the mid 1950s. Thankfully a little further along the street stands a shop that sells all manner of grooming supplies – including pots of wax. Of course it’s not called wax – it’s clay, or sculpting stuff, or magical unicorn spit, or something equally ridiculous – with a price to match. How the hell can a small tin of wax cost more than a meal out?
The work day passed without incident. Actually, I say that, but that would ignore a conversation I had with a colleague about blogging platforms. We ended up looking at Medium together (a web publishing platform), and as I explained it to him, I discovered a relatively new feature – you can now import WordPress blogs into Medium. Guess who did just that a few minutes later to try it out? Yes – this idiot. I have no clue if it will go anywhere, but I’ll cross-post for a while just to find out how it all works, and if there is an audience out there.
This evening hasn’t really happened – and by “hasn’t really happened”, I mean I walked five miles between schools and football pitches while fetching and delivering children, and cooked and ate inbetween journeys here, there, and everywhere. It’s all good though – no children were lost, no football kit was lost, and no parents decided that sitting in the pub with a beer might be a much better idea than trudging all over town.
I never do seem to make it out for a beer. I’m tempted to think that only happens in movies and TV shows. I did pass a couple of friends this evening on my travels, and wondered if their evening was as crazy as mine. Of course if I ever kept in touch with anybody, I would know.
Late this evening – once the children were in bed – we sat down and watched the first two episodes of the new Star Trek series on Netflix. I’m trying hard to like it, but it’s taking forever and a day to get going. The first two episodes are a prologue of sorts – the third episode (which isn’t out yet) is apparently what you might think of as a “pilot” episode. I’ll try and stick with it.
There isn’t really anything else to report this evening. I only just got the chance to sit quietly and write this – at 11:30pm. Yes, I know – I could have written it instead of watching Star Trek, but there was half a bottle of wine to be drunk, and pretend socialising to be done. If not for watching junk television together late on an evening, I might not see my other half for days one end. She usually consumes a steady diet of CSI, NCIS, Bones, and whatever other detective series is showing to de-stress late at night. I wander in, and am usually horrified by some pathologist or other scooping goo out of a skull.
Anyway. Time to wrap this up. The clock is ticking. It will soon be tomorrow.