“Iron my dress, please, and don’t burn it.” Even this blunt rudeness couldn’t dent my bonhomie. She was getting ready for a friend’s bat mitzvah and the dress was for the bracha, the ‘blessing’ part of the day-long ceremony. Silently, I ironed the dress. There would be another frock later, the day’s celebrations would end with a party, where there would be dancing. My child is growing up; it is as well that I have recently embraced increased incidences of solitude …
After indulging in a peaceful breakfast of muesli and yoghurt in the front garden, I went out into the back and picked leaves from my beloved Bay tree, and a fistful of thyme. A bottle of apple cider from the bar fridge and I was ready. Her newfound Jewish zeal would wane in the face of a succulent pork roast. Oh, I am wicked!
In the late afternoon, after lunching on a grilled cheese sandwich that was sublime in its simplicity, I went to visit a friend. Debbie owns a busy hair salon and I love being there; the atmosphere is vibrant and trendy. It seems nobody is in a bad mood when they are getting their hair done. Debbie lamented the fact that she is bogged down with the business side of her salon; she just wants to enjoy doing hair. On the spur of the moment she offered me the job of managing the business, on a mornings-only basis and I accepted. Money for jam and the chance to gather material for what could be quite an entertaining book; has anybody ever written about the things people tell their hairdressers? I think the change of scene will be very good for me.
A reason to dress up, almost like going to a party every day?
And nobody in that environment will give my oddly-coloured nails a second glance. Today they are dressed in ‘Strawberry Milkshake’. The little bag was made for me by my extremely creative and talented pen-friend Steffi in Hamburg, Germany. Thank you, Steffi!