You may be wondering what I look like.
I am sitting up in bed wearing the most extraordinary shawl. It's light and airy - not exactly gossamer but heading in that direction. It's a very bright green. Not lurid, quite, a little more emerald than lime and landing somewhere in between. Because it's so thin, it wraps neatly round my neck but, when opened out, it's huge. My husband gave it to me for Christmas. It has a massive Union Jack painted on it and skulls scattered randomly. One of them is spewing blood. You may be a little surprised. Perhaps this does not fit the image you have imagined for yourself over the years. I was surprised too when I opened the parcel.
I had, it was true, said I'd like a beautiful scarf as a present but the design, I confess, took me a bit aback. I couldn't trot out the traditional 'Just what I've always wanted' because I hadn't previously known there was such a scarf. So I resorted to a few neutral questions - like 'Why did you choose one with a Union Jack on it?' and 'Why did you think I'd want skulls?' along with a few more practical statements like 'Feels nice to wear', 'Pretty pattern round the edges' (informally rolling scrolls) and 'Interesting colours'.
These, of course, were the very qualities for which he'd chosen it (he hadn't noticed the massive flag and skulls) . . . and I've been wearing it ever since.
I've cut my hair too. It wasn't 'long' long the day before yesterday - but it was longer than I usually like it and I'd been complaining to Didcott about his hair because he keeps having to brush it out of his eyes . . . Then it struck me that I couldn't complain about his if I didn't do something about mine so I went to the bathroom and held it up in the air (my hair) and cut it across a few times, gathering it in new bundles with each brave cut. I was aiming at a rough and tumbled, sticky-outy look but it fell flat against my head and made my face look flat and rectangular. I think people still recognise me. Context helps.
Yesterday, I kept a pair of scissors handy all day in the bathroom. Every so often, I went in and had a go at standing in front of the mirror and snipping it a bit here, a bit there (my hair). At last - a sticky-outy effect . . . only . . . only . . . it's only sticking out on one side. It looks as if I'm going around with a personal gale blowing from the right.
That's what I look like.
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The pansies I grew from seed but didn't prick out till a few weeks ago . . . we brought them in so they wouldn't be snowed on. It snowed slush but they are saved from drowning.
There was a fierce wind in the night and it ripped the birdcage off the top of the pot with the chickweed growing in it and took a fistful of chickweed with it. Chickweed, if you stand back and look at it unconditionally - is a very pretty plant.
I've joined Twitter.