Red wine and haircutting scissors do not a happy combination make! Snip, snip, and the person gazing at me from the mirror definitely is a one sided sort of gal. I know loads of people who cut their own hair and it always looks great. My friend Val for one, her blond locks always looks good. She shrugs when complimented – “Oh, did it myself” she says. So, well, no offence Val, but how hard can it be?
My hair is/was very long, out of control really and sporting a host of colours from dark brown, almost black – the bit at the back near my neck – to silver (please note, silver, not grey) at the front. So I swept the hair to my left shoulder cut it ‘sort-of’ level and swept it back again – Mmm……………… interesting shape –A-symmetric – a sort-after style in this neck of the woods. So maybe if I part the hair down the middle bring a bit down to the each side, and snip to approximately bosom length. Good, nice and long at the back then………… and charmingly short-ish at the front and sides, and what are ears for if not to hold hair out of the eyes? Oh yeah, hearing.
Crept into bed – no one would notice my scissor happy evening.
Drinking tea in bed this morning, B looks at me, then puts his glasses on, then removes them, cleans, and replaces them. “I once had dinner with Veronica Lake”, he says. This is so typical of him, why has he kept this to himself all these years. Think America and the brain-drain years – (he taught both at Harvard and UCLA). He does this, just drops stuff into a conversation. Odd that he should think this auspicious occasion now………… I wonder why?
My boys will just love this one – I can see Jem laughing until tears prick his eyes. Charlie will be a bit concerned (“Just don’t tell anyone, Ma), Wills will do that eyes to the heavens ‘Oh, Mum’ thing and Jon won’t see anything wrong in my method.
Okay, so I wanted a picture of Veronica Lake. Try though I have, I cannot see how to move a picture onto my picture page from the internet. I tried printing and scanning, but just can’t make my scanner work. So I brought the picture onto the computer screen, took a photo of it and voila! Just remember boys, I’m the sort of girl that would thrive on a desert Island, whilst you lot are floundering. I’d soon have a shelter built, it would probably even have curtains and a picture on the wall. So before you mock………………
My Studio tidying yesterday, was singularly unsuccessful.
This was due entirely to the Mother Nature, who presented us with a warm, sunny day. Garden chairs were retrieved from the summer house, sun glasses dusted off, and knitting carted out to the garden. I wasn’t entirely idle I knitted another piece for the Valbonne tunic – maybe it was the bright sunshine, but I decided to knit this one in red and navy, so I made up a busy pattern of little joining flowers. I’m not sure the red is quite right, so today I will knit it again in navy and white and see which I like the best. It’s another lovely day, so a great excuse to reknit the piece and enjoy the sunshine.
I walked this morning in bright sunshine accompanied by a ferocious ground frost. Violets, due I think to yesterday’s heat, are blooming – (if a violet can be said to bloom – they are such tiny, shy, little things) – everywhere. Seen on mass as they are now one cannot help but smile and almost creep past them least one disturbs them in the serious business of just ‘being’. One can certainly understand why Violet was such a popular name at the beginning of the last century. The Victorians much admired the combination of beauty and shyness. I don’t think we would wish shyness on any child these days.
The eye mask solution to the early morning light has not been entirely successful. I woke from a bad dream (I was a hostage in Beirut) at five this morning feeling very hot and bothered. The heat was soon explained; if my husband gets hot in the night, he simple folds his side of the duvet over me. The hostage situation probably sprung from the eye mask, as I woke fighting to get it off. Once contacts lenses were inserted the mirror spoke of either a face lift that had gone disastrously wrong or a road accident victim, my face still hasn’t settled back into place, the stitch marks around the edge of the mask are still embedded in my cheeks and forehead. Veronica Lake? I look more like Frankenstein’s monster.
So I shall ditch the very clever blind and the eye mask and enjoy the light show.