Mute button

More work on newsletters today. Then, to make sure I would be paid, sent the dozen or so meticulous and tiresome emails needed to get my hours on their system. Helping freelancers get paid is never a priority.

After work I hobbled off briskly enough for a much-needed haircut, as it was becoming lobetastic. When they cut it short and spray it with water you can see my scalp these days. Got the paunchy barber who has to be one up. So when he asked me if I was going on holiday, and I said yes to Canada, he looked momentarily panicked. Mosquitoes, he said plucking inspiration from the air. Yes they have them, I said. When I get bitten I swell up, last time I was in Spain... etc. He also gave me his opinions on the Gay Pride march this weekend, which were of the I have loads of gay mates but... variety. They need to invent mute buttons for hairdressers. The symbol on the button would be of a pair of giant scissors poised around the neck of the hairdresser.

Began reading The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society late at night. Will be sternly judging its Guernsey credentials. It has sold in bucketloads. It is a brilliant wheeze as it seems to be about a book group during the occupation. Naturally the novel has been seized enthusiastically by book groups around the world.

Lorraine told me today that a thieving seagull is walking into her house and gobbling cat food, watched by cats frozen in horror. Meanwhile in other cat news, I remonstrated with Calliope today for a wire biting offence, and she went straight to the bathroom and savaged the toilet roll to get me back. Needing the last word like a barber.

Comments

a said…
Think yourself lucky. I have to find a barber who won't talk about football, which may account for the infrequency of my visits. May I recommend the Polish barber at the bottom of Church Street? Much more interesting.....
Peter Kenny said…
Yes I should give him a try. Hope all's well with the photography!