Crewcut or Combover? That Is The Question

I reckon I'm in the clear for a few years yet, but temples belonging to work colleagues, and the receding thereof, has me wondering what I would do given the dilemma. A crewcut can look thuggish, a combover desperate, but is there such a thing as a tastefully arranged combover? Clearly an Arthur Scargill is out of the question but a cheeky spider's legs ensemble over the temples might be forgiveable. I'll give it some thought.

Desert Island Discs#1

I pore over my desert island discs. While you're counting sheep to get off to sleep, I'm deliberating over whether to tuck Bob Dylan's 'Highlands' under my arm when I do my Robinson Crusoe, or Depeche Mode's 'Higher Love'. It is my ambition to be a guest on Radio 4's programme when I'll have the luxury of eight selections but for now I'll plump for Teenage Fanclub's 'Aint That Enough'. I'm sure you'll sleep better for knowing that.

Teenage Fanclub gig

Was good, I went with Stu. Cosy, old fashioned venue in Camden. No stripey jumper for Norman (lead singer) this time, greying beard though. Gerry wore his 80's fully buttoned long sleeved shirt, Raymond's hair matched the colour of Norman's beard. No new stuff, just hits and favourite album tracks, every one a winner. I Need Direction was the pick. Two encores, a first for them I believe, so was Norman having a bra thrown at him he said. 3pm we got back, M1 turned us over big style. On the subject of firsts, Stu drove for the first time since passing his test.

Work

Like my job but feel the pressure, that's the risk you take when in sales. I meet all sorts, got a young entrepeneur today who wears shades indoors and believes he is the coolest guy ever to have lived. I don't doubt that he is but he still looks ridiculous wearing dark glasses in his dungeon of an office. Might take some suncream in to the meeting and perhaps a parasol or do you think that'd be taking the mick? After him I'm off to see a woman who's husband is inside suspected of murder, yikes.

Big night last night

What a great night. I got so sober you wouldn't believe it. Know how many teas I had? Six! And a couple of coffee chasers just to top me up. It got a bit mad after a couple, needed to calm it so watched a Taggart then read a flyer that had been shoved through the door. Free small pizza if you bought a large one -so I did, well, you know what it's like when you've had a few. Woke up this morning and remembered everything from last night, the embarrasment.

Kate is 30 today

...and she doesn't appear overjoyed about it. Bit of a landmark age 30, signalling the transition from relative youth to oncoming middle age, it's a bit of a wounder. Face it, when you were a kid, people in their thirties seemed old didn't they? Clinging on to their former self but unable to carry it off convincingly, wearing clothes that they shouldn't anymore and being a general embarrasment. The slide into middle age starts here Kathryn, watch that midriff grow.

Can't cook, won't cook

I managed to pox up fish fingers and chips tonight. Undercooked the fish fingers, I could have thrown them back in the water and they'd have swum off. The oven chips I chose to prepare separately but they went cold and the bread was somewhat dry, it needed to be toasted really, it was a day past the best before date. The accompanying baked beans were edible which was consolation at least. Dessert was the remainder of the Celebrations tin left over from Christmas. Delia Smith eat your heart out.

FA Cup hell...again

The FA Cup third round weekend is welcomed by the whole football fraternity, unless you support Villa. That's the fourth time in seven years we've drawn Man United, and each time we've surrendered, this time 0-2. United love Villa Park, it's their second home, the holiday home the toffs go to when they need a break, somewhere to kick their shoes off and relax following a tough week. We ought to start charging them rent, they'd pay top dollar. 1957 when we last won the FA Cup, that's 51 YEARS...