By TheOttawacker

It's ba-a-a-a-ack

A day of errands, which is in itself rare enough for me to make a mention of it. Started off - as I try to most days, but don't always succeed - with a chapter of the Arthur Ransome book. We're on the final one of the 12 now (The Picts and the Martyrs) and it is probably the weakest of the 12. However, as Magnus Magnussen used to say, I've started so I'll finish.

Then Ottawacker Jr. went to school and I went out to get a haircut, much to the delight of the aforementioned midget. He's been nagging me to get it cut for a while, and it is, I have to say, long (more than 2 years' growth now). It's fair to say he wasn't happy with the results. I had half an inch taken off the tips, which were "in lovely condition" according to the hairdresser (no poncey barber's shop for me!) So I told her to make me beautiful and sat there in my customary I'm=getting-my-hair-cut" mode: eyes closed; hands, legs and fingers crossed; mouth shut.

Admittedly, the change was minor. This, I took it to mean, was because I was already beautiful, an opinion I happily shared with Mrs. Ottawacker on my return. She said nothing to contradict me - actually, she said nothing at all - and so off I went to do the rest of my errands: post office; birthday card shop; liquor store; podiatrists (who are having a shoe drive for local disadvantaged kids); and somewhere else so interesting that it has been obliterated from my memory.

After all this excitement, it will be understood that the topic of my haircut had faded somewhat from my memory - or at least the excitement of it had diminished somewhat. Ottawacker Jr. did, as he is wont to do, his best to refocus me on the topic.

"So you didn't go to get your hair cut then?" he said.
"Yes, I did, you cheeky bugger - can't you tell?"
"Well, why didn't she cut it?
"She did - she took off the ends and improved its general texture," I waffled... admittedly, a little rattled.
"It looks terrible," you haven't even washed it."
"I have - I've just had a toque on for the past hour..."
and so on and so on. 

Thankfully he found something else on which to turn his sartorial acumen so I slinked off to check my hair in the mirror and think up some better retorts. 

(My hair was perfect, in case you are wondering.)

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