I need to start renewing a few things – get a bit of fresh
energy flowing. I’ve already started on the clothes front; the next thing is
the pin board in my office. It’s got postcards stuck on it that I put there
nearly twenty years ago. And then it’s the big one. Wait for it. The greatest
of all terrors. The change of hair style!
Saw a man on the TV tonight – about the same age as me with
hair at about the same state of depletion. His hair was short, but short of stubbly,
all over. It looked good, so that’s what I’m aiming for. But not yet – spring,
when the weather warms up a bit.
New image. Falls over backwards with shock and the giggles.
It’s these adverts I’ve been seing the past couple of
nights. They don’t persuade me to want the product at all, but they’re teaching
me some profound truths. The whole of Paris
is in complete darkness from a city-wide power cut, but wear the right
aftershave and all the lights come on again. That sounds good to me.
What intrigues me is why all the women who wear expensive perfume
in these productions look like street workers out touting for business. I could
say that I don’t understand it, but I do, ’cos I’m a clued up sort of guy, you
know? I just choose not to acknowledge the ad men’s weasly little ways. I have
standards.
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Saw this on an author/singer’s website tonight. She was
promoting a new anthology in which she has a story included.
‘...which includes a story by yours truely (sic.)’
Whoops.
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