Yes, this is a fresh, new editorial – after I cunningly tricked you all into thinking there was one last week, when in actual fact it was the week’s before. I’m sorry, I just didn’t feel like doing one. But don’t worry, it’s not as if there was much new to report on. BUT this week, there is! Praise the Lord, I have a few things to complain about.

Firstly, I had my hair cut. This picture is from my profile page because I didn’t get a new one taken of the new barnet but the style is pretty much identical to it. Right, that’s one thing we’ve established between ourselves.

Secondly, Josh (who came up with the style as illustrated in this accompanying image to this week’s editorial) did not cut my hair this time. No, the little weasel never called back to confirm my appointment, so I had to crawl back to the salon I usually went to and book myself a cut-and-blow-dry with someone completely new and different…goes by the name of Adam. As recommended by the manager who passed on my details to silly Josh. Mmm, the manager’s actually quite hot – drives a nice car too. But he’s horribly expensive because he’s a ‘director’ and in salon land, a stylist is classfied by his or her level of experience and can therefore charge accordingly. Shit, I’m in the wrong trade here…

So! Adam – who looked like the siamese twin of Josh only not as good – cut my hair. “You’ve got lovely hair”, he cooed camply. Ha! If only. “Ooh dear, whoever cut your hair last time really went too short here”, he said holding up a chunk from the top of the crown. “That was Josh”, I replied before he looked shocked and then started laughing. At this point, the manager who had been looking over his shoulder while cutting someone else’s hair, came over and said he remembered me coming into the shop and asking for Josh. “Did Josh call you back?”, he asked me. Being a snitch, I informed him that he did but then he didn’t call again and lo and behold, the manager apologised profusely and then thanked me for coming back to his salon.

Five minutes later, and Adam was done! And looking at my reflection, I couldn’t tell how much had been chopped off – I just think the ends had been nipped and made to look neater. I mean, I got what I wanted and Adam was very good, but chuffin’ nora, it was an expensive hair cut. Mind you, the best part for me is when they blow dry your hair and get it poker straight with a nice sheen. I’ll have you know I only visit the hairdresser at least every 3 months though I went 6 months without a hair cut once. Is there a point (or even an end) to this story, I hear you cry? Just a minute, I’m getting to it. After my cut, I took a stroll down my local broadway and in the window of a rival salon, there was a massive poster, covering the entire window that welcomed “Josh – creative stylist”. Sure enough, monkey boy was inside, seeing to someone else’s tresses.

So, do I go after Josh next time or do I stick to the place I’ve grown used to and put my locks in the hands of Adam (who is friends with Josh and despite looking the same age as him, is actually 6 years older!)? Ah sod it, I can’t be arsed to go after monkey boy. Besides the salon he now works at is incredibily stuck-up – you can smell the bitchiness from outside! Nope, I’m happy to stay with the usual haunt, which is a first as I normally tried a different salon each time. I feel quite at home there and it’s only a minute’s walk from my house. Result! I will give Josh ‘evils’ when I see him next time, though.

I had a wedding to go to on the same day, by the way. Just round the corner from the Live 8 gig in London’s Hyde Park. I didn’t want to risk driving there and getting stuck in a traffic jam and/or finding no suitable parking space so I left the car a couple of miles away and hopped on a bus to Oxford Street. The wedding reception was in a hotel on Grosvenor Square, and being a bloody square, I didn’t know which corner the hotel was on. Actually I’d been once before 4 years ago and I could have saved myself a trek if I had looked up the street on the A to Z instead of walking the long way round but hey, that’s me being practical (!)

I arrived at about 7.20 pm, and the first course was served at 8.45 pm. Very nice too but then I got really pissed off when the main course was rolled out at 10.10 pm. Almost 90 minutes later?! What was wrong with these people?! You get better service from Pizza Hut! Outrageous and downright inconsiderate of us poor guests who were bored stiff and starving. God, if you can’t see to 150-200 people, don’t bloody invite them! Tsk.

I nipped to the ladies to help pass the time while waiting for the food and unfortunately my short visit was extended when I tried to shut off a running tap that some imbecile had left on. Except it wouldn’t shut no matter which way I turned it. And the other taps wouldn’t turn on! God, what kind of a hotel was this?!

Wondering what to do next, I was stunned when the top part of the tap suddenly came apart in my hand! Seriously, I was only trying to help. Clearly my plumbing skills need a great deal of work… Any way, I reported the tap incident to the woman in the cloakroom and legged it before she could turn round.

The wedding was so boring (have I said that already?) and full of shit-stirrers (i.e. blasts from the past who took it upon themselves to gloat about how wonderful their lives were now that their offspring were married and popping babies out – yeah, like I care!). Well, it was just one woman but hell, did she go on and on about herself. I think about 15 seconds of her conversation was devoted to asking what I had made of my life before she reverted back to herself. Yawn! Have you had bands show you their pants? Have they touched your knee? No? Not at all? Then you haven’t lived, m’dear! I later wished I hadn’t come at all. Bunch of superficial tosspots…

Apart from that, I’m very well. Slightly behind with a couple of reviews (Rob Thomas live and Backstreet Boys album) but all in all, it’s all good and I’m getting there. I was asked the other day what one has to do to get a get a mention in one of my editorials. I’m not entirely sure, Hungo, but I guess playing Cluedo at lunch time on Friday qualifies for something.

2005
2004