Heavy Hangs the Head That Wears the Crown

I had my hair cut at the weekend. I'm glad I did.

I don't think I look any better, but my head is certainly lighter. I think there's also a psychological benefit to having very little hair.

My old hair was a massive curly mess. It screamed chaos and gluttony. Who knows what might have been happening in that jungle? Some kind of nightmare Hobbesian struggle was probably happening in the thick brown line between scalp and sky. That kind of horror weighs heavily on my head in more ways that one (one more way than one - ie two).

My long curly hair also looked a bit like a mushroom cloud. And that's not something you want to see in the mirror every morning. It's hard to walk through daily life with the ghosts of Hiroshima swirling around your skull.

But now I'm all shorn. My head is a pleasant meadow. There are no places for secrets to hide (they'll have to seek refuge in my good-old well-adjusted psyche!).

Now when I look at my head, I no longer think of nuclear disaster, but of the odd shape of my own head. Which is horrific, but on a smaller scale.

Also, I can start wearing hats. My head is still too big for most of them. But at least they won't be perched on top of my birds' nest hair, like a lion wearing a crown.

I might try to wear a crown. But I'm not going to be eating any gazelle, thank you very much.

(I might eat some gazelle)

***

I'd quite like to have twins and call them Izzy and Izzn'i.

***

I thought this morning had really flown by. Then I realised it was a moorhen.

Yep.

That's the level I'm working at today.