Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Getting my teeth into 'Dear Fatty'

I’m in the midst of one of my ‘Hairy Maclary’ type phases at present where almost overnight I go from looking vaguely presentable to a woman impersonating an Old English Sheepdog look. The last haircut was not a stunning success as Roger my hairdresser got completely into the spirit of the 80’s event I was going to and cut my hair in an 80’s type fringe – or so he claimed. I do have memories of Duran and Duran and Princess Diana peering out from behind fringes during that era so I reluctantly conceded that a fringe might help the whole 80s look but I did add the rider that I have a bad track record with fringes having spent most of my early teens sporting a pudding bowl haircut complete with dead straight fringe, from behind which I glowered at the world.

All DQ no.2’s worst fears came true and the orthodontist declared that despite a number of baby teeth falling out over the last couple of weeks, (and being left beside the basin adding to the general attractiveness of the pit known as the family bathroom), she still needed to have 4 teeth out. DQ no.2 was not unnaturally in a complete state of hysteria about this and even I found it difficult to put a jolly spin on the whole outing to the dentist. When I went into the dentist’s room with her I was slightly stunned to see a large piece of paper headed ‘Guide to Dental Extractions’ placed next to the dreaded chair. For one horrified moment I thought perhaps our very experienced dentist had suffered a mental blank and was mugging up before starting on DQ2’s tooth removal job, though given I teach with the answer book clasped firmly under one arm at all times I am not in a position to criticise those who do go in for a quick bit of revision. It transpired of course that the paper was for me and whilst I wouldn’t have described the whole operation as fun, and DQ2 would certainly have a few pithy words to say about it, now she has taken the cotton wool out of her mouth and is able to speak again, she was very brave and it was over very quickly.

I am cursing as some child has altered the setting on my text messaging on my phone to predictive and I am of course completely unable to cope with it. I think it is an age thing but I just can’t get to grips with it and it annoys me. It’s like Twitter which I joined recently and which I just don’t get the point of. Facebook, yes, I can understand why people get hooked and I do quite like looking at friends’ photos and messages but Twitter??? What am I going to post? “Off to library to do some writing” “Back from library.” But again suspect I am showing my age here.

Fabulous weekend in Sydney weatherwise, inspired by the sunshine we spent part of Sunday hanging out of a small rowing boat, debarnacling the runaround boat we have a half share in. There is something very satisfying about chipping great wodges of marine vegetation off with a large scraper, though less amusing when the sponges spit at you and the appearance of a large crab did make me shriek. Trust this description gives you a clear idea of the desperate need for a serious antifouling job on the boat.

Have been completely gripped by Dawn French’s autobiography “Dear Fatty”. It wasn’t a book to which I would normally be attracted but I picked it up in the library and was immediately gripped. She has written it in the form of letters to the important people in her life and it is both funny and moving. She and I are roughly the same age and have a teenage daughter of the same age – apart from that there aren’t many similarities, but I found myself both laughing and wiping tears from my eyes and muttering most un –me like sentiments like “You go Girl!”

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