Day 37 - Friday 25th April
I'm up early again and spend the morning at the PC, responding to emails and promoting my online shop. At noon I have a call with a new business contact who works in marketing but wants to talk about incorporating sustainability into her practice. I take my lunch outside again and listen to a podcast while I eat. Nobody else is up yet. I have a brief chat with my friend who had CV and we arrange to meet online at 6pm tomorrow. She's still working but clearly exhausted and her voice comes and goes; I'm afraid she'll do permanent damage to her vocal cords by not resting her voice sufficiently. In the afternoon I check in with my charity board then apply for a job and submit proposals for a couple of projects on Freelancer before driving to the parcel post box. I had hoped for a little time to sit in the garden but I've managed to fill my day somehow.
It looks like this will be the warmest day of the weekend so I've planned a barbeque. Hubby is having online drinks with a friend and my son has finally emerged from his room and is gaming. I make myself a G&T and listen to the radio while I prepare some coleslaw, pasta salad and potato salad mostly from leftovers. It's gratifying to hear that Colonel Tom has secured the number one spot in the music charts, a position he will hold when he turns 100 next Thursday. Less so to hear that Donald Trump has recommending ingesting disinfectant to fight Covid-19; it's almost guaranteed that somebody will try it. The man is a menace.
We eat outside and then my son suggests that I cut his hair; this is quite something as - like me - he's very particular about it. We set up on the veranda with an extension cable for the clippers and he shows me some photos of his previous haircuts for reference. It's pretty short on the back and sides fading up to a long crown. I begin tentatively, with frequent stops for my son to check progress in the mirror indoors. Hubby hovers and offers advice which I find makes me nervous again; I send him indoors but he keeps coming back to see how we're getting on. He realises that the guard needs to be pushed on further, which allows more hair to be taken off and speeds up progress towards the requested length. Having got the back and sides done I switch to scissors to trim the top, and I even chop into it to create texture - a technique I have often watched being done on my own hair, unlike the clippers which are only ever used by my hairdresser to tidy up my nape.
Son declares himself delighted with the results which are apparently better than some of the cuts he's had done at the barbers. I suspect he has less opportunity to influence those, as they just go ahead and do whatever they think he asked for rather than constantly checking that they are on the right lines! Hubby is impressed and tells me he'd be happy for me to cut his again; I think watching me cut our son's hair made him realise that, although my technique might not be the same as his barbers, I work carefully and with precision. It's pretty late by the time we're done - I had to bring a lamp outside to work by when it got dark - so after watching Have I Got News for You I'm ready for bed.
Today I am grateful for the trust of my son.
It looks like this will be the warmest day of the weekend so I've planned a barbeque. Hubby is having online drinks with a friend and my son has finally emerged from his room and is gaming. I make myself a G&T and listen to the radio while I prepare some coleslaw, pasta salad and potato salad mostly from leftovers. It's gratifying to hear that Colonel Tom has secured the number one spot in the music charts, a position he will hold when he turns 100 next Thursday. Less so to hear that Donald Trump has recommending ingesting disinfectant to fight Covid-19; it's almost guaranteed that somebody will try it. The man is a menace.
We eat outside and then my son suggests that I cut his hair; this is quite something as - like me - he's very particular about it. We set up on the veranda with an extension cable for the clippers and he shows me some photos of his previous haircuts for reference. It's pretty short on the back and sides fading up to a long crown. I begin tentatively, with frequent stops for my son to check progress in the mirror indoors. Hubby hovers and offers advice which I find makes me nervous again; I send him indoors but he keeps coming back to see how we're getting on. He realises that the guard needs to be pushed on further, which allows more hair to be taken off and speeds up progress towards the requested length. Having got the back and sides done I switch to scissors to trim the top, and I even chop into it to create texture - a technique I have often watched being done on my own hair, unlike the clippers which are only ever used by my hairdresser to tidy up my nape.
Son declares himself delighted with the results which are apparently better than some of the cuts he's had done at the barbers. I suspect he has less opportunity to influence those, as they just go ahead and do whatever they think he asked for rather than constantly checking that they are on the right lines! Hubby is impressed and tells me he'd be happy for me to cut his again; I think watching me cut our son's hair made him realise that, although my technique might not be the same as his barbers, I work carefully and with precision. It's pretty late by the time we're done - I had to bring a lamp outside to work by when it got dark - so after watching Have I Got News for You I'm ready for bed.
Today I am grateful for the trust of my son.
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