My last encounter with the hairdresser resulted in a haircut which looks as if I'd finally had the courage to chop it all off as soon as I put what's left behind the ears. This is great. I so want short hair, but that would rather add to my looking like a stick with an oversized head.
Yesterday my friend Stephan picked me up for a ride on his motorcycle, and to watch me eat eighteen maki and miso soup. Yum! We then proceeded to have a heated discussion about whether I should or shouldn't swear to sever all ties to any friends of mine who play the guitar (apparently not), buy nail polish with names such as "Dark Angel" and "Lovin' Pink" (that was me) and overheard an amusing conversation between middle-aged men in a record shop.
One of them had apparently bought a record for a heap of money several years ago and upon listening to it for the first time recently he realised that - shock, horror! - the songs weren't those which the cover artwork had suggested. It is slightly astonishing how much the two men actually had to say about that. When I walked out to wait outside - Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin really aren't my kind of music anyway - I looked at them properly for the first time and they look like they work at a bank during the week. What a life!
Today's photograph on The Daily Nice is lovely - but then again, they always are.