The Masticators

My Dear Fellows and Dear Princess Normal,

Today I took Caro to the hairdresser. She was getting some - ah - I'm going to say "hair stuff" done to her hair. 

You know, when I got MY hair stuff done by a bloke at The Gyle it took ten minutes and cost ten quid. I dropped Caro off at 11am and was told she would be ready "at about four-ish".

FIVE HOURS. 

However, Caro assured me that the cost was definitely, definitely still around ten quid, and I have no reason at all to doubt this. So that's all right then.

Today's blip is a picture of the salon, with this rather snazzy impressionist painting on the side of the building. I left there and busied myself around town for FIVE HOURS until it was time to bring Caro home. She seemed to have done really well, and wasn't nearly as washed out as she was on her last trip out.

When we got home, Caro called Feefs to complain about being bored with pureed food. 

"Oh f*** yeah," said Feefs, swearily. "You need that texture. Something to chew on. Something to masticate."

Feefs let that sink in.

"I might have to get that on a t-shirt," she went on. "I Enjoy Masticating? Prolonged Masticator?"

"No," said Caro. "Just no."

But Feefs sorted Caro out with some suggestions and tonight Caro is happily masticating her way through baked beans and a boiled egg with a Ryvita kind of thing.

Let us hope she doesn't go blind.

S.