christmas preparations

I had to go into Colchester this morning because I was due for a haircut.  My hairdresser was beginning to flag from the weight of Christmas preparations on top of work and had a cold.  As she washed my hair it became apparent that the boiler, which had only just been serviced, was not entirely working.  It didn't stop her making a very good job of my haircut, but I felt for her as I ambled off into the drizzle, leaving her to sort out the hot water system and keep working flat out until Saturday afternoon.  It is not even as though I was having my hair done specially for Christmas, it was simply eight weeks since the last appointment.

The only other customer was a grey haired woman about two decades my senior, who was clearly a regular.  As we sat side by side to be washed she asked if the curl was natural, and as I left she told me that my hair was very pretty.  It is certainly very 1980s.  My hairdresser talked about keeping the cut light around the sides because I only had a small face, but reassured me that no, she would not give me a mullet.  Pampering is a hobby that has passed me by: facials, manicures, pedicures, eyebrow threading (what on earth is eyebrow threading?), bikini waxes, any kind of waxes, sunbeds (very bad for the skin), wrapping yourself in seaweed, wrapping yourself in mud, all of these seem a sublime waste of time and money.  I do enjoy having my hair cut, though.

I went home via the vet to stock up on flea and worm capsules.  Poor cats, they are not getting gift selection boxes containing two handmade white and pink sugar mice, a gingerbread toy, and organic catnip, a snip at £45.  For that you can buy a box with six doses of Broadline flea and worm treatment, thank you very much.  I am sure they will be perfectly happy playing with the wrapping paper from our presents, even though it is just from an ordinary roll from Waitrose and not special pet friendly paper made from soy based ink.

I called in at Tesco as well in search of stuffing.  There was a slight atmosphere of contained panic, despite there still being three days to go before Christmas Eve and the fact that Tesco will be open again on Boxing Day.  Anxious people with lists milled about, and I joined them, circling the chilled aisles several times before finally managing to track down pork and chestnut stuffing.  The Paxo was easy.  Tesco, bless them, had put it somewhere obvious.  I am glad pork and chestnut stuffing is still a thing and I do not have to buy a pouch of vacuum packed chestnuts and start learning to make my own.

My cunning plan to wrap presents this afternoon while the Systems Administrator was out came to a premature close because I ran out of sellotape.  I thought we had some, but maybe we used it up.  Or perhaps the Systems Administrator has put it somewhere, since the last thing to be gift wrapped was probably my birthday presents, but it did not seem a good time of the year to start poking about in the SA's railway room.  I think I had better buy some gift tags as well, since my mother and the SA have radically different tastes in reading matter and it wouldn't do to mix the parcels up.

The drizzle did not lift, and my sinuses screamed in protest each time I took them outside.  I looked regretfully at the latest drift of oak leaves on the lawn, and the dripping mess of the herb bed, and decided that they were going to have to stay like that for another day.  Probably several, looking at the weather forecast.  According to The Times, December is the foggiest month of the year.