Hangover Hairstyle

Kev gets it once a week.
I haven't had it since 1979.

Last week it was Tuesday when we walked over to Wetherspoons. Kev has his steak, I have my vegetarian pasta and we share a bottle of wine.

But things didn't go according to plan.

Kev's first bite of ribeye went down the wrong way!

He coughed, spluttered and had to retire to the gents. I was left alone pinching his chips and drinking the wine. When he returned he was still choking and (for possibly the first time since he was in mixed infants) was unable to touch a drop of drink. It occurred to me to be worried but I decided against it and carried on refilling my glass as he kept disappering and reappearing.

I woke on Wednesday to beautiful sunshine and a horrible throbbing hangover.

What a day to have an appointment at the hair dresser. However, after four cups of coffee and two Anadin Extra^® I ventured forth.

The haircut problem has been sorted for some time now. I make an appointment on Natalie's day off and the lovely Sue has me in and out in no time at all. She knows me now and sculpts the spiky dikey (above) to perfection.

However, I'd been growing it for 6 months and fancied a transformation.

Something like this - but with a jumper:


Sue sat me down and demanded to know why I had a hangover. She then felt the need to tell me in complicated intricate detail about every hangover she had suffered in the last 10 years .

.................................................

Right she said - "That's done"

And this is my new hairstyle.

KAZ

Socialology

Extract from e mail sent by friend B from Spain.

Hi Kaz
Norma, BM, Norma's brother and his wife came here on Sunday. We all went on the prom and had lunch. It was OK. The brother was quite nice but the wife was a bit difficult to deal with.
I find social occasions increasingly problematic. Ron and I were discussing this the other night. He says he wouldn't mind if he never saw anyone socially and that he could get all his social interaction via the Internet.

I'm constantly looking for social interaction that's not hard work.
I like yours and my meetings at the Met. I find them very supportive, entertaining and interesting.

Etc. etc. ..... Much love B. XX

This is extremely disturbing.

Ron and B are the Sting and Trudy Styler of Heaton Norris.

They are renowned throughout the North of England for their hospitality in an ambience of glittering chandeliers, heated marble floors and the king-sized dinner table which came from Peter Caarlson in Stockport.


There was a time when I received invitations to their dinner parties - but my social skills didn't quite cut the mustard (deipnophobia?) so now B and I meet at early doors in the pub.

I can't recall the last time I held a dinner party. I find the concept of having people in my home who won't leave even when I start plumping cushions, drinking Ovaltine and flossing my teeth is quite horrifying.

I used to be happy mingling in the pub - but I couldn't take the hangovers. And have you ever tried temperance in a situation where all around you are drunk? Not only do drunks talk utter drivel but they repeat the same utter drivel over and over again.

So - if people like Ron and B go reclusive - then miserable, curmudgeonly introverts like myself who have developed an aversion to picking up the phone will have no social life left at all.

It will be the end of Human Socialisation.

The doom merchants who said Twitter, Blogging, Facebook etc would lead to isolation and lack of personal interaction will be vindicated.

Ok by me?
Not really Sure.

KAZ

Britain's Got Eyebrows.

I’ve always been a fan of the luxuriant eyebrow.

Bette and Joan encouraged theirs to thrive and flourish:



This one depilated:


Not so sure about the men.


BUT I hope that Susan Boyle doesn’t get plucked and pruned by the makeover merchants.


If there is still a person on the planet (Hello Dave) who doesn’t know about Sue Boyle - here she is.

Being impressed by Susan, her perfect pitch and her non botoxed appearance, I tuned in to ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ on Saturday night. There’s a first time for everything - even a talking parrot that doesn’t talk.

And I fell for the sexy Mr Smith and his sax in a very big way.

SHOOT ME NOW!!
KAZ

SOAP and STRIGIL

Lord Leverhulme was a man who knew what he liked. When you walk through the door of his gallery you are greeted by the erotic Salammbô .

click to get a better look!

He started his collection by buying artworks to advertise his soap. During repressed Victorian times this was obviously a perfect excuse to choose paintings of naked women.

My favourite is 'The Trepidarium' by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema (top) which hides away in a dark guilty corner. Don't you think he was good at marble? Alma was a dirty old man - but he got away with it by painting his nymphets in classical scenes.

You probably thought she was holding a dildo didn't you? NO - it's a strigil - used to scrape off the dirt in the days before soap.

I was reminded that I'd run out of soap which I much prefer to gels and squirty stuff. Tesco had some Imperial Leather which also used to come naked with the label stuck right on the soap.

Now it's protected by cellophane and cardboard.
It made me feel quite nostalgic for Pink Camay or Knights Castile.

So what do you use with your strigil?
KAZ

The Beetles

The one thing I don't like about Manchester is that it's landlocked.

So we often drive to the coast to look for waders (that's birds not big wellies). Last week it was New Brighton, a rather sad seaside resort which doesn't quite know what to do with itself. We saw sad shivering little girls crouching behind a beach wall to eat a sandwich and chubby chip eating teens on a half term outing.

Underwhelmed, we decided to visit The Lady Lever Gallery. I was going post about this - but as I was searching for pictures of the naked ladies in the exhibition I found something much better.

Look at this 1962 poster for 'The Beetles'. Does it remind you of Bob Dylon?


Ringo replaced Pete Best in June 1962 and they recorded 'Love me Do' in September of the same year with a session drummer and Ringo on tambourine. The New Brighton Tower (demolished in1921) was higher than Blackpool Tower. The ballroom burned down in 1969.


Here's another poster by a better speller using that terrible word 'combo'.

(John Lennon was asked if he thought Ringo was the best drummer in the world - he famously replied "What - he's not even the best drummer in the Beatles!")
KAZ

Life's too Short.

You may recall Barbara or friend 'A' - the eccentric one who (unlike my scintillating friends B, C and D) is seriously lacking in social skills.

We had arranged to go for a walk. She rang me and said she would be delayed as 'she still had two cups of tea to drink'. See what I mean?

Lunch in Uppermill was planned. Friend 'A' doesn't like pubs so we ended up in a pretentious little bistro. Our order of pesto and mozzarella ciabattas was taking far too long to arrive - so I called over the waiter and ordered a glass of white wine 'Be a good chap and make it very dry, very cold and very quick' says I .

Friend (?) 'A' gave me a killer look and said (for all to hear) 'Oh NO Kaz you aren't having WINE again are you??? It's sooo bad for you.

In reply to which I said (without counting to 10!) "Barbara - would you like a slap?"

We finished the meal in silence, walked home in silence and parted in silence.

This happened some time ago, since when no phone calls or e mails have been exchanged. But last week I was reminded about the long running feud between the Charlton brothers.

How could Bobby - who had survived the Munich air disaster, held the scoring records for both England and Manchester United, been awarded European Player of the year 3 times and won the 1966 World Cup single handed - be so small minded that he wouldn't speak to his own brother?

So - last Thursday I picked up the phone.

Yesterday friend 'A' and I went for a pleasant walk - no drink was taken and my conscience is clear.
KAZ

Stand by your Man.

At the time of going to press (I've always wanted to write that) this is the only group photo available of the G20 spouses. Here's the one from last year...

and the year before that....

What collective term springs to mind?

We already have Footballers' wives, Stepford wives, Readers' wives, Trophy wives and Desperate Housewives - so what do you call this lot?

The message is 'I sleep with the top man so I get a nice new designer outfit and a bouffant hairdo '. Look girls you can study and work for years to become a respected professional - like Michelle (lawyer) Sarah B (PR consultant) Svetlana Medvede (finance expert) Margarita Zavala (Mexican MP) Therese Rein (business magnate with personal worth of 60 million Australian dollars) .... and then abandon it all and become a wife who says nowt.

Fine example to set for young women eh?

Here's two more from a previous life before they fought to the death by winklepicker.

**But I'm waiting for the DVD**

KAZ