Self-Portrait 28

note to self - must clean the mirror

Judging by the declining number of comments on these – June Special Series (a Self-Portrait) – the readership is suffering as much as I am.

Looking at the calendar I see there are only three days left and at a time when the series should be building to a riotous climax, it is instead drifting into nothingness.

Perhaps like me.

A riotous somewhere, sometime -now a drifting nothingness.

Yes I swim in the river, I sit and watch sunsets…..

But….

Can I swing it round in three days?

No.

So…

If you haven’t, and I know you haven’t, told me your three favourite animals – see here – then you must, now. (Use the comments; send me an email, anything).

Then add – as David did – (see comments here) two adjectives to describe each animal.

Mine were/are Cat (lazy and playful), Whale (Powerful, Unfathomable) and Elephant (Dusty and Stomping).

Then….

Hair.

Time to talk hair.

Because I had my hair cut on Wednesday.

Hair today, gone tomorrow!

Mrs Salmon was the first person to cut my hair – she used to cut my mum’s, then turned to me.

She smelt of hair spray.

Later she visited our house and I learnt to recognise her car; I would wait in the alley until she was gone.

I liked her, I liked her smell, but I liked my hair.

For a while, twice I think, I went to Jean Paul’s in the High street. He wasn’t French but he sold durex, which seemed cool even if I didn’t need them.

It was the start of a period of unhappy haircuts – until Aileen found us.

She was an itinerant, travelled with scissors in her Pocket – I even bumped into her in Amsterdam once and she was good.

Smelt good too.

Maggie cut my hair once.

I tried.

Linda cut once – she didn’t brush the loose hairs from my neck, she lent in close and gently blew. Time stood still.

It grew again.

Then I met Denise.

She lives nearby – trained as a hairdresser but gave up and became a painter.

She still has her blades – she cut my hair again on Wednesday.

She always cuts it the same way – I like that.

No going into school and everyone pretending they don’t know you.

I prefer a female touch.

I just wish I had more.

It was riotous once, now it's drifting into nothingness.