Good Grief 149

Went for a haircut.

I'm not keen on the hairdressers really. When I was little I used to lock myself in the toilet with a Tupperware beaker of juice and a biscuit until the travelling hairdresser that came to our house had gone. Then once, I learnt that his baby was very ill in hospital. I remember feeling very guilty and praying thinking it was somehow my fault. Weird what goes on in the minds of children ... and the minds that children's minds go on to become. They are all we have ultimately. No wonder we fear madness as much as we do.

Today's trip to the hairdresser was a bit different. It was quiet. I had a great time waiting in the bay window looking out onto the street watching the world go by and realising everything I was looking at through the hairdresser's lettering on the window was becoming an abstract image. I thought that it was interesting that I don't take my camera into more urban places and how self conscious I would feel but I thoroughly enjoyed this different 'take' on the street I know so well. I was almost sorry when it was time to be 'done'.

Luckily, the bit I dread ... the chit chat, was fine today. It was a new woman and we talked about dementing mothers and grandmothers, the uncertainty of the Tata group and about discrimination. She's looking to rent a place and almost all the ads say, 'no dss, dogs or children' ... she has dogs and children ... what a hideously hypocritical world we live in where those on benefits, with dogs or children have no redress.