Today was the sad day for heading back to school. Oliver got dressed this morning for the first time since he has been home, and he and Mark buzzed off for a haircut.
They were very pleased with themselves when they came back. Mark has had his hair cut very short indeed, by way of getting his money’s worth. The barber has shaved it very close to his skull, imagine a design based on a tennis ball, but in normal hair colours obviously, and he would not look out of place if one added an ear ring and a tattoo, except that obviously they would look ridiculous with his tweed jacket and flat cap.
I am quite taken with it now that I am used to it, a close shave looks better on Mark than it does on the dogs. Oliver said critically that he would look better if there weren’t so many white bits in his beard, his turn will come.
After that we collected the dogs and went for a communal stroll around the Library Gardens to look at the spring coming in. This is beginning to happen, and it is lovely. The first of the cherry blossom is starting to come out, and for the first time in ages I didn’t need my coat. I love the pigeon mating calls at this time of year, they are a warm, soft springtime sound. The robins are squeaking and squabbling, and the first blackbirds are in full song.
We went home and opened all of the doors and windows to let in the lovely springtime fresh air. This was gorgeous this morning but less gorgeous this evening, when we got back home in the dark to discover that neither of us had remembered to close them and the house was freezing.
Oliver had requested a condemned man breakfast of egg and bacon on bread rolls, so he and Mark called in at the butcher’s on their way back from the barber. The village butcher does rather splendid smoked bacon, and we added lots of home made mayonnaise, which made for a marvellous, if fat-drenched, start to the day. We didn’t do a single thing after that which might burn it off, and so I expect it has all made its way directly to my bottom. Probably it will rest there for ever, making my jeans mildly uncomfortable. I don’t mind because it was so jolly nice.
I tidied up whilst Mark and Oliver went upstairs to shoot zombies, and then Oliver had his customary ablutions. He does this by himself these days, because he is nearly grown up now. He even cuts his own fingernails, and when I look in his once revoltingly grubby ears I can see practically through to his brain.
In the end it was time to go, and Mark went off to the farm and Oliver and I set off for school.
He talked all the way there, about something completely incomprehensible to old-lady ears, vid coms perhaps, whatever they are. I like listening to him sounding happy, no matter how puzzling the conversation, and was sorry when the final parting moments came and we had to have the sort of hug that will last us for three weeks.
The next time he comes home we will be getting ready for Disneyland.
How quickly that has come along.
