Perming; evolving English; chocolate orange japery

Me with perm

During a hair appointment first thing on Saturday morning, learned from my hairdresser Lisa that perming has now been taken off the hairdressing syllabus at college. She had just finished perming an elderly lady and had spilt some of the smelly fixative all over her clothes, which led to a bit of a conversation about perming. Lisa seemed a little concerned that this is likely to lead in the future to a shortage of hairdressers who know how to perm, although we both conceded that, barring a major change of direction in hair fashions, there are probably likely to be fewer people actually wanting them. I have tried out a perm on one occasion, 20 years ago - didn't hate it but did let it grow out fairly quickly. It does look slightly mad in this picture.

Later on Saturday Ruth and I went up to London, well wrapped against Nordic-style cold, to see the ‘Evolving English’ exhibition at the British Library. Really interesting and well laid out - perhaps inevitably for a Saturday afternoon, it was crowded so there was an element of queuing for the various headsets. Have recorded my reading of ‘Mr Tickle’ for the Map Your Voice project - my recording can be heard by clicking on the appropriate dot on the map here. I'm the one who sounds like Jenny Agutter in The Railway Children.

Mum arrived on Sunday for a flying visit, having just finished a flying visit to Hannah's new flat in London. We set out for a brief walk before darkness set in but ended up walking along a particularly unattractive stretch of the Loddon close to Lower Earley Way. We passed these flood culverts but the tunnel under the main road looked a bit bleak in the fading light so I made the decision to turn back. Instead we risked death on the Mill Lane rat-run to have a peek at the former Sindlesham Mill and then had a drink in the Poachers’ Pub.


Earlier this week took the lid off the little wicker basket where I am currently storing toilet rolls, to discover, as you do, a Terry’s chocolate orange perched on top. I acquired this at some point over Christmas and as I don’t like them much have been trying to palm it off onto Ruth, who doesn’t like them either, ever since. Initially I tried to leave it at the house when I moved out, only to discover that it had been slipped into one of my boxes. I duly snuck it back to the house and left it under a pile of linen in the bedroom. Since then, with great stealth and cunning, it has evidently been returned to my flat.

My aunt and uncle, who are keen genealogy enthusiasts, appear to have made the exciting discovery that Auntie Anne and Mum may be fourth cousins of Jeffrey Archer. Apparently AA, Mum and Jeffrey have great-great-great-great grandparents in common, who married in the mid 18th-century near Appledore in Devon. The lines of descent diverge with a William (born 1802; JA’s ancestor) and Susanna Clibbett, born 1812, our ancestor. Gosh.