Haircut at last

Working on my story still, and was contacted by mes amis in Paris with a bit of concept work, which I agreed to do by Friday. I sloped in my mask through the streets, stopping at a charity shop to buy some cards, then off to see Stacey at 4.00pm who spent ages, being a perfectionist, sorting my barnet out and speculating about the next national lockdown. My hair had been driving me a bit mad, growing in clownish lobes either side of the area of concern, and it was most excellent to have it cut. Stacey said cutting my hair made his arms ache.