Jan. 10th, 2012

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I had my hair cut yesterday, by a hairdresser who is not my usual hairdresser (and who doesn't chat - I felt I ought to ask her if she was going anywhere nice on holiday). I was weirdly nervous, but she didn't mangle it in any way. It's the shortest it's ever been. I look square-jawed and manly. Well, ish. From the neck up, and if you ignore my height. My proper hairdresser warned me when I first got it cut short that I might find it addictive, and I do a bit - I'm glad yesterday's hairdresser eventually stopped asking 'Any shorter than this?' 'cause I don't quite know where to stop. But anyway, yes. Successful hairdressing. Hairdressing is slightly faffing, so I'm glad to get it dealt with. Sometimes I wish I was in India (when I say sometimes I mean MOSTLY, obviously) where you can just find a man with a stool and some scissors on the pavement, and then you're away. Also if you're in India you can ask him to make you look like Shah Rukh Khan. I don't look much like Shah Rukh Khan.

In other news, I'm knitting a bag to keep my wool in. One person of my acquaintance found this disturbing in a turtles all the way down sort of a way.

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whatho

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