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Trying to pace ourselves in the ridiculous circumstances of having to look after our own kids at all times, so it was mainly a chillax and watch TV day, interspersed with vigorous games of tag and hide and seek in the garden.
We also made the ridiculous decision to cut the kids’ hair. They wanted their hair cut, but if we did everything they wanted to do we’d all be dead. But it was easier than having to listen to them asking.
We are in a deep and dark place right now.
Cutting hair is very much not in my wheelhouse of skills (I gave it a go on myself when I was about 4 and had just seen haircutting on the Generation Game, but I did not do a great job) and so responsibility fell on my wife. We were too tired to watch a Youtube video of how to do it, so she just got out the nail scissors (which might be the best implement to use, who knows?) and got on with it. Surely it’s just about making sure the child ends up with less hair than they started with.
My daughter had her long hair cut into a shoulder length bob and to be fair it looked pretty good. She was very happy with it. It looked like we had found a great way to save ourselves £20 every how ever long we can be bothered to let both their hair grow.
Then she did my son’s hair. And he came out looking a bit like a coconut. So maybe it’s not as easy at it looked. It wasn’t too bad actually. He’d just looked so sweet with his long hair and looked so different with his fringe gone. There’s a picture of me at about the sam age with a severe haircut and I look like a thug rather than the usual sweet angel. It was a bit like this for Ernie too. The severity and slight unevenness made me laugh every time I saw him, but also made me think he was behaving more aggressively than usual. Which can’t be the case. It’s amazing how our own preconceptions colour our attitudes. I think we will return to the hairdressers once this is over. And I don’t think I will let my wife have a go at my own increasingly Cheekaboo barnet just yet. That’s an obscure reference, but accurate.
Who’d have guessed at the start of the year that we would be reduced to this. But none of us would have believed any of this. If on December 31st you would have told Captain Tom that he’d have a number one record in the next four months, let alone that he’d raise £30 million by walking around his garden I suspect he would not have believed you. Or if I’d told you that Me1 vs Me2 snooker would be televised. The most unlikely thing of all.
What fucked up stuff is coming our way in the next few months? I am not even going to attempt to guess. But if this isn’t the end of times, then I will eat my snooker board.
