Trim

I am feeling much happier today even despite a return trip to Asda.

I went back to get a pair of jeans for Oliver. As you know, he has outgrown all his trousers having a current growth spurt which could be compared to the seedlings you might expect from some beans recklessly acquired in exchange for a good milk cow and then chucked out of the window.

Yesterday I bought him a pair of jeans in Asda. I am aware that the fashion statement expressed by purchasing garments in Asda goes something along the lines of: I do not mind looking like a person who buys clothes in Asda. All the same, the jeans recommended themselves to me by being a) probably about the right size, and b) cheap.

They turned up to be so much the right size that he actually liked them, and wore them today to go to work. This was a huge weight off my mind, because he had only got one pair of trousers that fitted, and I do not have a washing machine. Hence today I rushed back to Asda to purchase the only other pair that they had on their empty shelves. Fortunately they were still there, and I swept them up with a small sense of triumph, and dashed off to the till before anybody thought they might offer to fight me for them.

After Asda I took the car for MOT The Sequel. I am pleased to announce that it passed instantly, so we are legal again, and then went into Kendal to have my hair cut.

It was lovely to see the hairdresser again, like coming home after a slow and tedious journey down a very long motorway.

It was even lovelier to have a beautiful new haircut. I told him that I thought he had made a better job even than Mark, and he said he was relieved to hear that.

It is very short indeed, in case the Government suddenly decides again that we are not allowed to have haircuts any more. It will last for ages, like having bought six Family Packs of 24 Andrex.

I am feeling very pleased with my newly-scalped self. I  have thoroughly got my money’s worth, although I am noticing a chilly draught around my ears and the back of my neck. I will hardly need any shampoo at all, so it might even pay for itself, and instead of needing to faff about with a hairdryer before I go to bed I will be able to have some blissful peace and quiet whilst Mark is in the shower, reading my book and contemplating the world.

When I came home I rushed about tidying up, and made a mashed potato-and-cheese bake for dinner. I am putting some considerable effort into housewifing now that I am at home looking after two working men. I cooked a chicken for them last night, and they were so hungry that between them they ate almost all of it, and there was barely enough left to be picked off for their sandwiches today. Oliver ate his dinner and then came down for more later on.

Tonight, in the spirit of economy, there were a very lot of potatoes.

The picture is Mark, who has been putting some thought into the issue of mandatory face coverings. Obviously, like me he felt that it would be sensible to make his own at home, preferably from recycled materials. The outcome is shown in the picture. Oliver is hoping that he will not wear it for school. I do not know if he will or not, but I am quite sure that he will wear it for everywhere else.

I will need to make mine soon.