I’ve had my haircut. I was feeling ratty at work, fed up with the mop on my head and looking in the mirror in despair every morning trying to tame it, so I phoned up the salon just down the road from work. A little over an hour later, Nao, tiny, Japanese with very good English (she’s been over here for 3 years) washed my hair, gave me a head massage, then alternated from peering at it to standing on tip toe to cut it. She offered me some magazines to read, but although I looked through one, I was happier just sitting there. I love people fiddling with my hair, I used to twiddle it between my fingers and suck my thumb when I was little. I can remember climbing into bed with Mum and Dad on weekends, sucking my thumb and twiddling their hair. Dad says it was very restful. I digress, as she was cutting, combing and razoring my hair, I could feel my mind empty from the strains of the day. Slipping into an almost meditative state, I literally couldn’t hold a thought in my head. Bliss. Although she hasn’t taken much length off, it is a dramatic change; it should also keep its shape as it grows. I also shouldn’t have to weld it to my head to stop it from moving around. This morning I styled it as Nao suggested, and so far it is holding up. I feel quite naked as I only have the barest amount of goop on it.
TB picked me up at the harbour last night, saying he had a surprise for me at home. Walking into the flat I said ‘I can smell lilies’. He’d brought me a huge bunch of flars, just because. We cooked dinner together, but Andrew Marr’s programme last night was so good we didn’t do the washing up. The kitchen looks like a bomb has hit it, so I pulled the blind down to hide it from the postman. Too shaming!
I wrote this on the train in my little notebook, there was an odd mood about the carriage this morning. Lots of people were dozing, a few reading (I abandoned The Name of The Rose, I couldn’t get on with it, so now I need to buy another for the journey home), the guy next to me was reading ‘Further along the Road Less Travelled’. Moth eaten copy, either he had been given it to read, or didn’t get it the first 8 times he read it.
Getting my haircut has reminded me of something I wanted to blog about the other day, but forgot to. What physical characteristics I have inherited from my parents. I look a lot like both of them, as does my brother, although you wouldn’t necessarily pick us out as siblings, when we stand next to each other you can see it. But when we laugh you certainly can hear it, we have the same shout of ringing laughter that starts off our giggles.
I have my Dad’s thumbs, but my Mum’s fingers, Granny’s feet, we found that out when she was in hospital, I am also about the same height as both my parents. I have my Dad’s shape of eyes, but whereas his are green, mine are an odd blue/grey. I also have his hairline, but Mum’s kinks and cowlicks. I have Dad’s temper, and often have to bite my tongue instead of exploding, it is slow to burn and nasty when it goes, I am not proud of my temper. I will be word perfect, vitriolic, right on the button with what I want to say, then absolutely mortified by what I have said.
But from them both, Patrick and I have inherited their compassion for others, to help everyone above yourself and a very dry sense of humour. Sarcastic to the point of caustic, we have a great sense of the ridiculous and will laugh at things 100s of years old. I am really looking forward to spending some quality time with them this weekend.