I always think it's a bad sign

When you look down at the carpet in the pub

Winter/ spring = Ugg boots, summer/ autumn = flip flops. I know it's the slippery slope. I have let myself go

and think, ooh, that looks like a Babette Blanket. I wonder if I want to crochet a Babette Blanket. (Answer: no. I don't. Or, at least not this minute, not when I'm cutting more 2.5" squares out to make another quilt. I'm a quilt masochist, that's what I am. 148 in orange! Lucky I have a neverending fabric stash).

I had my hair cut today at the local FE college training salon. £8. £8 as opposed to £55 when you go to a city centre salon! (I obviously don't pay £55 at the moment, I have no money and when I do I rush off and buy a fat quarter, sod personal vanity. But I did when I was working). And not only did she not tell me off for having hair that grows in the wrong direction on my neck and never using a hairdryer, she didn't try to sell me any 'product' and she's cut it really nice. So I shall be going back. (I have tried to cut it myself, before you say, but I can't do the back although I'm not averse to having a bit of a trim of my fringe. And I do cut Partner's. The first time I did it he looked a bit like Blackadder in the first series and he spent the afternoon afterwards sitting in the dark listening to Leonard Cohen. But now he looks perfectly respectable. You'd never know).