Hoi. This post has been hastily edited. Apologies. Sometimes your blog catches you out. Let’s gloss over the details, shall we?
So, in non-controversial bloggish news, I have been running a bit more each week, fitting into smaller jeans (my current pair are so tight I think there may be some internal bleeding, and certainly quite a bit of abdominal bruising), booking tickets to gigs and film and experimental dinner theatre in order to get us through the long, cold, soul-destrying winter. Our Autumnal/Winter Mental Health Cultural Programme begins on Saturday with a Muttonbirds’ gig at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire. Most New Zealanders will subconsciously start singing “Dominion Road” softly and fondly to themselves right about now. YOU KNOW YOU ARE!
All the children had good reports from school, which means that out in public, away from the bosom of the home, they are not mental. And that’s enough for me, so they are going to get a McDonald’s Happy Meal on Friday. High times, high times. And I shall be all middle-class about it, and feel ashamed to be in the queue.
Here is Ned, getting his hair cut at Costas Barbers. They are Greek Cypriots who cut hair for £8 and they give the kids KitKats afterwards. See how the excitement at the thought of the KitKat turned to sadness when the reality of the new hair set in:
Not a happy customer, alas.
He got over it though, especially when he saw his enormous RABBIT HEAD that I thoughtfully bought him, to tide him over while the haircut grows out.
And now, I am off, to stand up again and start the blood flowing in my middle-section, and to apply arnica on my waist-band wounds.