Sunday, December 16, 2007

Flowers, Christmas is coming and you know what I mean.

1a. I am chatting to the girl who is washing my hair. It turns out that she doesn't want to be a hairdresser -- 'I want to work with special needs children.' I say that this is a very worthwhile career; and wish that being a writer had the same usefulness to society. She pauses and then says: 'Well I couldn't live without my books. That's usefulness.'

1b. When I ask to tip my hairdresser, in her drawer are a few coins and a USB stick. In the drawer belonging to the hairwash girl, there is a packet of chewing gum.

1. Five bunches of daffodils for £2. 'It's because they're open,' says the flower boy.

2. A respectable middle-aged couple hurry up the hill carrying a Christmas tree between them.

3. I describe the vaguely-remembered work of a steam-punkesque scientist to Nick. He knows exactly who I mean. I feel as if I have met some sort of soulmate.

Arrival, left over from Sunday and lamp light.

1. Some new baby news lifts the morning. 2. For lunch there is ramen with leftover leeks and squash, shreds of pork and shards of deep orang...