Snip, snip, snip.

Dear Blog,

      So what was the big excitement of the week? No it was not that nice Mr Cameroon’s friend Ozzie Osborne giving us all lots and lots of quids to go out and spend. Neither was it all those naughty athletes being caught for having a chemical meal or two … or three. You are close when you say it was my grandson winning the wellie wanging contest at his school sports on Monday, but you would be wrong. Not wrong about him winning ‘cos he did. First place. Blog, I kid you not, the kid dun gud. Gold. The teachers took ages with the drugs test though, but in the end, most of them passed. That was on Monday morning. I had the afternoon to recover from the excitement.

Tuesday was the big day …. Every year about this time, without fail the farmers bring their sheep down off the hills and they get shorn of their fleece. The sheep that is! Well it is the same with me. Every year, without fail at this time of year, I have my hair cut. Sat there little little Miss Tuffet on her buffet, while my years growth tumble to the floor. Slowly the mass of hair grew around me. It always makes me sad, this yearly ritual. A lady jogger from down the Lane runs her scissors through my locks. Blog I kid you not. She has been doing it for the last eight or nine years, regular as clockwork; some people gather at Stonehenge for the summer solstice, I crouch on my stool like a naughty school boy and get my locks shorn . Each to his own, says I.

It all started, this hair cutting lark about a decade ago when I was going somewhere important and I was told I had to look smart, extra smart. So I swallowed my pride and asked this lady jogger who didn’t live down the Lane then, to give me the snip. Or Two. Previous to that, the last time anyone cut my hair was June 3^rd. It was at ‘Browns’. I remember it so well. June 3^rd 1962, Browns the Hairdresser and it cost my ten bob, half a quid! Blog I kid you not. It was traumatic.

Before that my last experience of a barbers was when I was it twelve and starting Grammar School!!!!! You think I am kidding don’t you Blog? Well think again matey boy. Would I lie to you? After my experience at Brown’s, I went straight into town and invested heavily in a pair of thinning scissors which I used myself on myself by with and from myself for the next thirty five years, until the important occasion where I was told I had to look smart. More about that some other time Blog. Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Wednesday was the Coventry year 7 and year 8 athletics finals, so I helped my dear wife open the Godiva Harriers café at the Coventry Track. The Coventry year 7 and year 8 athletic finals were at the Coventry Track. I suspected that I might have been asked to present the trophies with my newly acquired short hair smart appearance but that was not to be. The organisers will regret that decision ion the occasion of their Championships next year when I put up my appearance fees. I have to recoup the hair cutting fee from somewhere; admittedly, the lady from down the Lane is cheap. Really cheap. I don’t think they come much cheaper than her.

Thursday. Tried to put some of my greens out in to the kitchen garden between truydges, but it rained. And it rained on Friday between Trudges …..

                                                       Colin