||[Feb. 18th, 2013|10:26 am]
I had a haircut to celebrate it's nearly being Spring. When I say "haircut" i mean Ailz running the electric clippers over my head. I also threw open the living-room window and the back door and left them open for an hour or two.|
I've enjoyed Lucy Worsley's series on Restoration women. Worsley is one of the liveliest presenters on TV at the moment. She's funny, she's full of enthusiasm and she covers acres of ground. You think from her manner she's going to be lightweight, but she isn't.
I watched the first quarter of an hour of Complicit. Spying in this particular fictional world is all about hunching over monitors with nary a martini in sight- not even one that's been stirred. Our hero- played by David Oyelewo- complained to his boss that he was being passed over for promotion and hinted he thought it was because he was black. She should have come back with, "No, it's because you're such a miserable sod," but then she probably hadn't noticed because she was almost as miserable as he was. In my experience people who do foul and dispiriting jobs lark about to keep their spirits up. The fouler the job the blacker the humour. But that's life not art.
(OK, that was very unfair. I may watch the whole thing on 4od at a more seasonable hour. It's probably excellent.)
I dreamed I was due back at some institution that required me to be in uniform (school, I suppose) only I had left my clothes in a room my father had co-opted. He was making an important phone call and I couldn't disturb him. To make matters worse I'd taken my shoes off at the entrance to the supermarket and when I came out again they'd disappeared. Thankfully I knew one of the ground-keepers- an elderly Pakistani man- and he said he knew where they were.