clement freud

i was saddened to hear of the death of clement freud the other day not least because it struck me that i've been listening to just a minute for as long as i can remember (this link'll take you to the arena documentary), mainly because it's been broadcast as long as i can remember(this'll take you to a proper old school line up!). while it can't have been all that unexpected, and it certainly wasn't by him not least because he was eighty four, and i think most of us would like to keel over at home rather than end up in the care of the likes of me it still must've been a shock to his family. i'm sure he had his moments but my impression of him is as a thoroughly convivial fellow and that will do for me.

thoughts of my own ageing process came to the fore today as, t having thoroughly neglected my head and sporting what can only be described as a scruffy bouffant, i dragged my shabby liberace looking ass down to the hairdresser. not a barber, mind, a hairdresser. no matter it may look like a barber shop a man who cuts hair in a kilt will always be a hairdresser no matter how much he claims otherwise.

the moment of truth when he had shaved my head back into its accustomed no. 3, trimmed and at its fighting weight, when he said ' do you want me to do your eyebrows as well?'

'my eyebrows?' i said. well, why not. and while i can't be said to even sport a decent pair of spocks, genetics dictates that one day the sleek full owls besported by my dad will be mine. not that i'd ever really considered it until leaving the shop, underwhelmed by the experience, i was suddenly aware of how unhirsute my periorbits were feeling. doubtless no one else will notice. i looked in the mirror and they looked tidy enough if a bit disturbingly blonde. tidy but weird.

what comes next i wonder. i wait with curiosity.