In situ

My beloved is going to be home for three whole weeks which is wonderful. If I say this often enough maybe I’ll even convince myself. He’s spent an inordinate amount of time away from home in 2009. His intention was always to spend alternate weeks at home but his schedule  and commitments got in the way. So I’m a little unaccustomed to having him home underfoot for such a long period of time.

It was damp, cold and overcast this morning. I eschewed the bike,  escaped for a few hours and  treated myself to a badly needed trip to the hairdressers. I haven’t been since May, frankly an unheard of state of affairs. When I worked, I used to go every 6 weeks but, here, I can happily push that out to every 12 weeks. Let’s face it my hair spends half its life hidden under a helmet.

I like to think that I’ve got a good head of hair although it’s easily the worst in my hirsute family. So I really should take more care of it, indeed this is going to be one of my new year’s resolutions. I spent several enjoyable hours relaxing in the hair salon. I’m not a chatty client, au contraire, I like to relax, enjoy the peace and quiet and do nothing more strenuous than flick through a few glossy magazines.

Generally, my beloved, not famed for his powers of observation, doesn’t notice when I’ve been to the hairdressers. But even he cannot fail to note that it’s much shorter and has regained its colour. I have it highlighted to camouflage the grey but I’m fighting a losing battle. Why is it that all the grey streaks are around my face? I have barely a grey hair anywhere else.

This extended sojourn means he’s actually going to be here on my birthday. It’s many years since we’ve been able to celebrate my birthday together, just the two of us. He usually endeavours to be in town for his birthday but away for mine and our wedding anniversary. Actually, I don’t really mind too much. I never make a big thing of dates. Plus, it’s so soon after Xmas. I generally celebrate with a girlfriend whose birthday is a few days before mine.

This year, I’ll have to book somewhere for our celebratory lunch. Of course, as it’s my birthday you might be expecting him to make the arrangements, particularly given the Xmas present fiasco. But it’s generally safer if I make the bookings, then I know it’s been done. Not for nothing is he called ” the man who just turns up”.