I am writing this on the computer in my office.
Mark is downstairs on his computer.
He is looking on YouTube to find out how to do haircuts.
Oliver and Mark have already had haircuts. I did them with the dog clippers some time ago, and they have already begun to grow out.
My hair, on the other hand, is beginning to look as though it should belong to one of the Beatles in the early nineteen seventies. It is tickling my neck and flapping around my ears. It is too short to be tied up and too long to be out of the way.
It is driving me mental.
We discussed this this morning.
We realised that even if the Government decide to let everybody out of isolated lockdown, it is not likely that they will open pubs, and so we will not be making any money for ages. We will have to sit next to the lake and hope for daytime tourists. This will be exciting because we will have to have fights with all of the proper daytime taxi drivers, who will know that there is not enough work for all of us, and who will feel as though we are trespassing.
This is what happens when day drivers come out at nights. They are not allowed to have any friends and everybody is horrid to them.
Probably I will not mind if the daytime taxi drivers are horrid to me. Daytime taxi drivers only ever carry old ladies who are going to the post office and tourists who can’t remember where they parked their car. They do not need the level of savagery that you have got to achieve when your customers have all filled their noses with cocaine and want to show you the contents of their underwear.
I do not think I have ever come across daytime customers who have set one another on fire in the back of a taxi, for a laugh.
The daytime drivers can be as horrid as they like. I don’t suppose I will even notice.
Even if we are managing to make some daytime money, it will be some time before we have saved up enough for a haircut. Men can just go to a barber, give him fifteen quid and come out with a short back and sides.
Ladies need expensive precision trimming and styling with a hairdryer. If you do not do this then you will look peculiarly hairy at Parents’ Day at your child’s school.
Fortunately at the moment schools are shut.
You can see where this is going. In the direction of a large hat, probably.
He is not going to cut my hair tonight, because I think it would be better if he had not been drinking, and it is already too late for that.
I might need to have been drinking. I will keep you posted.
We have had a busy sort of day, as usual. I can hardly believe how much daytime there is when you have got to get out of bed at seven o’clock. It seems to stretch out for ever and ever, and it takes ages for the sun to be decently over the yardarm. Sometimes you have just got to remind yourself that nobody is looking even if the sun is still under the yardarm.
Even when Mark is working with Ted he does not get up this early, because he and Ted do not properly go to work until all of Ted’s children have been disposed of. This means that we do not have to leap out of bed before sunrise in the way the Scots seem to want to.
We thought we would like to watch the meteor shower tonight, but there is not a chance. We will be asleep long before they come out.
I do not at all like this daytime living. I do not know properly where the moon is, or if it is full or just a crescent, and we miss all the interesting things like the meteor showers. It is disorientating and weird and everybody can see if you have not washed your car or have just had an unusual drunken haircut.
I am looking forward to it being over and we can start living our real night time lives again.
Mark has been installing his revised shed roof, and a picture is attached.
The hole in it is for the purpose of inserting a window. It is not because he has forgotten it or run out of boards.
