Monday, March 21, 2005

Loose ewes and split endz...

Monday 21st March 2005



I’ve got split ends so I need to cut the ends of my hair. I don’t go to hairdressers. Well I have been maybe 4 times in my life. My mum always cut mine and my sisters hair then when I was 17 she persuaded me to go to Vidal Sassoon in Manchester to have a hair cut from one of the students there. They didn’t have all the black hair products then so when this woman had cut my hair (seemingly with no particular shape or style) rather than it staying in nice ringlets she attempted to blow dry it – instant Afro.
I went to school after I’d got back from town and one of my boy friends said to me “You look like Cleo Lane”. I instantly borrowed a hat which I wore for about 6 weeks.
My next door neighbours teenage son comes to me for haircuts rather than go to the hairdresser because he says they never listen to or do what he wants.
Which I feel illustrates my point.

Colin says I have a receding hairline. Not sure what to make of this. I haven’t rushed to find old photo’s to try and see if it’s true as yet but I think I’m gently headed in that direction. It may just be hairline envy on his part – he was in recession when I met him 14 years ago. That must be one of the hardest things about being a bloke – going bald.
If it’s true and I am receding, if it gets bad I shall rejoice in a series of extravagant wigs. I’ve always fantasized about long curly blonde or ginger straight hair.
I’ve never worn make up regularly so maybe I’ll be an old age pensioner with a full face of make up and funky wig, I like the idea of that (if it works for Babs Windsor…).

About this time of year round our way there’s always a pack of ewes who manage to get themselves and their lambs out of the fields and onto our lane where they stay on the loose for as long as possible. For years I thought this was some kind of mother’s intuition - they knew of the impending separation and slaughter of their offspring. Then last year someone kindly pointed out to me that quality grass was thin on the ground post winter and with extra required for lactating ewes they were merely escaping to find better food for themselves and their young… Oh well, natures practical way presides over thought patterns which are probably only manifestations of liberal guilt.

Tune of the day

Wolves and Leopards
by Dennis Brown

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Saturday, March 19, 2005

Back once again with the renegade blogster...

Saturday 19th March 2005



Have had my biggest blog break thus far - I think I've been suffering from blog disillusionment at the traditionally "low" part of the year, but the other day as I wandered through the BBC news site I saw the feature on the Bloggie's and "My Boyfriend is a Twat" has re-ignited the blog fire that burns within! Anyway I think it's my blogiversary in the next couple of days?

A lot has happened that I've thought about writing about, but the transition from random thought to computer keyboard has been slack if i'm honest. So in no particular order...

Tim Henmans teeth - have you ever noticed that they are exactly the same as David Bowie's were before he had them all capped? I always look at peoples teeth - I think it's my own particular brand of shyness that I look at people's mouths when they talk as much as, if not more than, their eyes. I once failed to recognise a friend of mine because he'd had all his teeth done.

At the beginning of January my boy started school.
When he started pre school nursery (Ysgol Feithrin here in Cymru) everyone said "ooh were you crying? isn't it awful?" and I was like "get a life", but the school thing is mega.
Firstly I miss him - the first saturday I limpeted him and hugged him just for being there.
Secondly there's the major outside influences ranging from chat back and poo/bum/willy jokes to pulling monkey faces and drawing ghosts all the time. He still says he wants his new bedroom to be pink though so that's a good sign.

Arthur Miller died and I was very upset.
The first serious play I ever acted in was "The Crucible" and I had the great fortune to meet him when I was at university - he was such an articulate, cool and intelligent bloke it was an honour in an understated (because he treated you like an interesting person rather than a dumbwit no mark student meets famous writer) way.
I have a photo of him and Marilyn Monroe (I love relationships between people you'd never dream would get it together) that I cut out of a magazine when I was a teenager and I have on several occaisions been unable throw it away even though it's quite tatty now.
Do I now put my signed copies of his works on ebay?!

8th of January saw me on the Ysgol Feithrin mothers night out in Cardigan.
Chinese meal followed by pub crawl finishing up at Cardigan's premier "nite spot" which was sublime.
The "club" seems to be a predominantly corrugated iron tunnel with toilets at one end, a bar at the other and a dance floor stuck on the side. It was populated by 1 pissed up groping middle aged bloke who tried it on with every mother in turn, and sullen teenagers. I supped a few bacardi breezers and let myself go on the dance floor when "Finally" by Cece Peniston came on. Sadly the rest of the music can only be described as shite, but an unmissable life experience none the less.

I think I cry a lot. I have tears in my eyes at least every other day, especially over sporting achievement.
Today I have cried twice - Des Lynam interviewing Ellen McArthur on radio 5, then the Welsh rugby team won the grand slam - LONGYFARCHIDAU! I support the England footie team and Wales in the rugby - although obviously if the Welsh football team are playing anyone other than England I like to see them win.
Not that I've ever sat through an entire rugby match on the telly...
There's going to be some serious supping in these parts tonight.

Today the sun shone like summer and I'm still in my t-shirt - fantastic.
The seeds we have planted are growing and the circle of the year is at the point where you start to feel refreshed and glad to be alive. Yee hah

Tune of the day

The Sun Will Follow
by Pianosaurus

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