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I cut S's hair at last. All his lovely little whispy curls are gone and I feel... well, fine actually. R almost stopped speaking to me (even though I did it all the consultative way and discussed it and everything, so he really has no excuse). R doesn't seem to cope well with haircuts. He almost divorced me when I got mine cut - it was very traumatic. Anyhow S's is a little uneven at the back but since I cut his hair by putting it into a pony tail and then hacking at it with nail scissors, I think we're pretty lucky it looks even vaguely respectable.

I'm writing I'm writing and about halfway through this version, although a lot of the re-write was necessary for the earlier bits it won't be so necessary for the later stuff where the story wanders off to another environment. Seems no matter how much time I spend tracking down and tying up loose ends, they still appear everywhere.

And have been reading the Stephanie Meyer books because - well, vampire high school romance, and I loved Buffy so much. And yes - involved. And keen to see the film. But I should probably read Proust or something now, just to balance the fluff (ppffff as if).

Oh, which reminds me, apparently people lie about the books they've read. How bizarre that top of the list is 1984 -- it's not even a long or scary book (unlike, well, Ulysses).  And it is one that I've read. Unlike War and Peace (which I really should have read and most people I talk to assume that I've read...) , and I've read some of the Bible and almost all of Midnight's Children er and I believe I've passed a Brief History of Time on the bookshelf in the house and someone once lent me The Selfish Gene... Nice that people still think that reading those books is impressive enough to lie about, though. Even if they haven't read them.

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November 2012
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