Bad hair day

More insomnia. However a productive morning, and beautiful weather. Did laundry, food shopping and got a bad haircut. I was rooted with horror unable to find the words to avert the bald man as he gave me some sort of strange womanly curl of a quiff. Some emergency work back home made it bearable. My nerves can't take this. And baldness is a bad sign in a barber; like a thin butcher.

A little later, walked up the hill to have coffee with Anton and Anna, and - vitally - be lent some more Frazier DVDs, as well as books on interior design. We went into the garden for a while, where they have a vine which has produced many bunches of small, sweet grapes. Also their peach tree which has lost a big branch under the weight of its fruit.

Spoke to Mum who had returned from her holiday. Among other things, they'd driven to her grandparents' old house outside Folkstone, and she sounded like she and Mase had a really nice time doing things like going to Canterbury by bus. In the evening, I laid low, conserving energy, and watching Frazier and football on TV.