Stuart arrived at work today wearing a baseball cap. It wasn’t until mid-morning that we realised he was completely bald. Apparently, Stuart gives himself a number four all over his head weekly so that he doesn’t have to pay a barber to cut his hair. But last night, unbeknown to him, Patricia borrowed his electric shaver, attached the number one comb to shave her legs (and possibly her moustache) and didn’t replace the number four after she’d finished. Stuart had shaved half his hair off before he’d realised, so had to continue to the bitter end. I would love to have been a fly on the wall. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen him look sheepish. He stayed in his office all day. Anyway, he looks better bald. Suits his personality.
Ian came over for a few hours tonight. It was nice to see him, and we had an OK night. I actually felt a tinge of tenderness for him tonight. He went home at about 9 pm, leaving me writing this.
Feel a bit flat.