Readers, it beggars belief what one can find out from an overdue trip to have one’s highlights done. First of all She was introduced to another client of the Lovely Hairdresser, who is the proud owner of my book and also has a Beagle. Of course, this necessitated a discussion about the merits of Beagles – of which there weren’t many – and our shortcomings, of which there were quite a lot. I’m glad I wasn’t there, as I imagine this was a dreary conversation and my feelings might have been hurt. Anyway, both clients spent a happy half hour with their hair full of tin foil, talking about infamous food- snatching incidents.
Then, Readers, the Lovely Hairdresser’s colleague came to take out all the tin foil, and happened to mention that she is the hairdresser of none other than Ebony’s Pack Leader. What a small world it is. So that’s She, Sicknote and Ebony’s Pack Leader – all frequent characters in my writing- who have been using the same salon without knowing it. (There are in fact at least twenty hair salons in the local area, and it smacks of pack instinct that they all use the same one.) It is only my blog that has pulled all this together. I feel quite proud of my role in all this.
It doesn’t stop there! The Lovely Hairdresser’s Colleague then said that my blog was mentioned on Radio 2 several months ago!! I know!! By Mr Chris Evans!! We had no idea about this, and it’s just too exciting for words. How did this come about, I hear you ask? Well, in an unashamed bid for publicity, She sent a copy of my book with a frankly quite creepy letter to Paul O’Grady, when he was presenting on Radio 2. Readers, I was disappointed to never hear from Mr O’Grady himself, though I imagine he is busy, just like Meghan Markle, and they will both be writing to me very soon. But somebody at Radio 2 deserves a pat on the back as somehow Mr Chris Evans has heard about me.
I am now thinking hard about what my options are, and how I could reach out to Mr Chris Evans as he is no longer at Radio 2 but has jumped ship to Virgin Radio. I feel a copy of my book and another creepy letter may be coming his way very soon, once we have googled an address.
All that from a trip to the hair salon! I was exhausted just hearing about it.
In other events, I had a marvellous walk this morning across the bridge and up into Top Field. There was some snow on the ground but not much, and it was bright and crisp. Ahead of us we saw Buddy the Replacement for Rocco The Inspirational Three -Legged Labrador, and I decided I preferred his Pack Leader to mine so ran off to join them. Eventually She caught up, and there was a long, very tedious conversation about brands of wellington boots. Buddy’s Pack Leader was extolling the virtues of Muckspreaders or something like that, and She nodded vehemently as her own cheap wellington boots have split and let in all the water. Expensive Muckspreader boots will not do this, Readers, and it is another example that you get what you pay for in life. Anyway, Buddy and I were extremely bored by the whole affair and had to stand around for ages pretending to sniff at things.
There was another mind-numbingly dull interruption to our walk on the way back. A sparrowhawk was spotted, hovering nearby and finally settling in a tree. This was considered to be unusual and exciting, so we had to creep up to the tree in order to take a photo. The sparrowhawk saw us coming by miles and flew off to another tree. Not to be outdone, we followed it to a grand total of four different trees, up a small grassy bank and at one point quite dangerously close to the river. The sparrowhawk was laughing its silly head off.
Here is what a sparrowhawk looks like.
Here, after fifteen boring minutes, is our picture of a sparrowhawk.
Yep. So not worth the effort.
I was worn out by the time we reached home, and I swear the damned sparrowhawk photo opportunity added a mile to the walk.
Yesterday was Food Technology for Young Lad, and Regular Readers will know that I am always very excited when Young Lad comes home with his produce. This week it was Flapjack#2; “How to improve your flapjack from last time.” Really all Young Lad needed to do was turn the oven down by quite a margin, as the last lot were burnt to a crisp, but always one to show some flair Young Lad decided to add chocolate chips to Flapjack#2.
If only he’d listened to me and turned the oven down by quite a margin.
Anyway, there were lots of lovely crispy slightly burnt crumbs in his food tech box, so when nobody was looking I grabbed it off the work surface and ran off to my bed to clean it out. It was nice.
Alas, Young Lad has failed to listen a couple of times lately. On his list of homework last weekend was Art – to draw a skeleton in the style of The Day of The Dead. (Whatever happened to cheerful things like Sunflowers or Cafe Terrace at Night? And Van Gogh wasn’t the most light-hearted of souls, either!)
I digress. Young Lad said last weekend that he would do it in the week. Well, Readers, the week had more or less gone by 6.30 this morning when it was realised that a skeleton in the style of The Day Of The Dead was due in today. Young Lad was woken from his slumbers and told to get up and do his Art Homework. Young Lad mumbled that he can’t draw and pulled the duvet over his head.
Friends, I can barely believe what happened next. You know what I’m going to say, I feel. She was seated at the table at 7am with Young Lad’s Art book and another book called “How To Draw The Human Figure” as She hasn’t a clue, and sketched out three circles, a few lines and a couple of hip bones. I know. I just couldn’t believe that we have now sunk so low that we do our offspring’s homework for them. True. when Young Lad finally got out the shower he had to write the title and draw scary teeth and eye sockets on the head, but he can hardly claim it as his own.
Young Lad’s Art teacher said it was very good, by the way.
It’s quiet in the lounge this Friday evening, as He and Young Lad are watching some boring rugby upstairs and Lad is thinking of going on the Xbox but hasn’t made it there just yet. So it is just Gingercat, She and I on the sofa, and very peaceful it is.
Golly I’m tired.
Bye for now,