I have had my haircut, this morning.
No visit to the barber for me, though. No, I let the current Mrs Masher do her usual hatchet job on it. Fortunately, the ‘hatchet job’ is my preferred style.
In fact, I don’t think I have visited a barber’s shop since Mrs M and I first got together.
She’s not a trained hairstylist, or anything, but cutting hair is something that all women can do, I think.
To a degree.
Yes, on the odd occasion she has made a pig’s ear of it, but it’s never really bothered me.
Because it grows back.
All too quickly.
And nowadays, she pretty much has it off pat.
We have gone through many clippers over the years, but these are Mrs M’s currently preferred set.
They have lasted well and, after many uses, are still very sharp… as the blood currently running down from the tip of my left ear will testify.
This is a picture of my bike, taken earlier today.
Just after we returned from the nail-biting ordeal that is the annual MOT.
I’m pleased to say that she passed with flying colours – although we did pick up an advisory warning for the tread on the front tyre being close to the mark.
Which it was, so I have asked them to order a nice new one.
I was a little bit apprehensive about the exhausts though, as I fitted new, louder ones a little while back.
I need not have worried: “She sounds nice” said the MOT inspector.
Indeed she does.
The current Mrs Masher has a catering size bottle of Head & Shoulders that she and Amelia use for washing their hair.
Harry and I use a much smaller bottle – that lasts just as long.
Looking at them in the shower, this morning, I noticed that the one we boys use is emblazoned with the epithet: For Men.
Which is good.
Because we are.
But what is the difference between the two bottles, I wondered?
Well, checking through the list of unpronounceable chemicals on the back, the only difference I could see, was that the male version contains Limonene.
So, not only have I got soft and luxurious, dandruff-free hair, but it smells of lemons too.
Because I’m worth it.
Today, I have been to our head office in Reading.
For meetings, of course.
They don’t have teabags and a well stocked milk fridge there though.
Instead they have these tea & coffee machines.
Vended tea is the work of Satan and I avoid it at all costs.
Vended coffee isn’t much better… because they use powdered milk.
And so, black coffee becomes my alternate hot beverage.
To be fair, the coffee out of this machine is much better than others I’ve tasted.
But it’s still bloody horrible.
This is my wristwatch.
Well, it’s one of my wristwatches. I have three.
This is my day-to-day work watch. It’s solar powered, so doesn’t need winding.
I also have a weekend watch. Same make, but slightly more expensive, waterproof and powered by kinetic energy.
The third is my dress watch, the one I wear to weddings and funerals. It too is solar powered, waterproof and it is synced via radio to DSF77, the time signal broadcast from Germany.
I don’t wear jewelry of any kind… apart from a wristwatch… which I wear all the time (pun not intended, but unavoidable).
Without one, I feel naked.
This is the calculator that I use at work. I took it out of my desk drawer specifically for this photo. And I wrote SHELLOIL on it, because it would have been infantile to have written BOOBS… and – contrary to popular opinion – I am a grown up.
I bought this calculator… actually, I didn’t – my parents bought me this calculator to do my college exams with. I remember going into Dixon’s with my mum, and I remember her wincing at the price when I picked out the one that I wanted.
But, I’ve always been one to look after things and so this calculator – though it’s somewhere around 38 years old – still works perfectly. And it even still has the original instruction manual, tucked into its imitation leather, plastic wallet.
It got me through my electronics exams.
It got me through my Radio Amateur’s exam.
It even got me through the mathematical questions they suddenly threw at me, at my job interview for the GPO/British Telecom.
OK, yes, I’ve had to change the batteries and clean up the PCB, but on the whole, mum, I think I got your money’s worth.
I mentioned at the top of the month that I drink quite a lot of tea, at work.
I’m not the only one (although I have to mention that other hot beverages are available).
Of course, no-one in their right mind takes their tea black.
As such we have a fridge at work, in which to keep the milk.
Today was the day of the Montreal Grand Prix.
A circuit where Lewis Hamilton won his first race and one where he usually excels.
A track where Jenson Button won what was – IMHO – one of the best races of the modern era, in 2011.
I became interested in Formula 1 and it’s British drivers, when the young and prodigious LH started showing what he was capable of.
And when JB joined him at McLaren, it was, for me, the dream team and I’ve been a fan ever since.
But I’m not that big a fan that I want to dish out my hard-earned to Rupert bloody Murdoch.
So, for the races that are not available on terrestrial television, I watch them on German satellite channel RTL. The dish sits in the garden, bolted to a paving slab and 5 mins before the race starts, I just feed the cable in through an open window and into the receiver box which then feeds the telly using an old-fashioned SCART lead.
I’ve been watching it like this for the past four or five years. Yes, there are adverts to put up with – annoying German ones, at that – but this arrangement only cost me a one-off payment of just forty quid. If I’d paid SKY for their F1 channel, I would have paid out well over a thousand pounds, by now.
For that sort of saving, I can put up with a few adverts 🙂
I mentioned, last week, about how I do the weekly food shop on a Saturday.
Well, as personal recompense for doing this, first of all, I visit the in-store café, where I will spend 20 minutes relaxing with a cup of tea and a toasted teacake.
I know: very civilised.
It prepares me for facing the hoards of dozy, inconsiderate shoppers, as they slowly drag themselves round, getting in my way and leaving their trolley wherever it will cause me the most grief.
But, there is something that really annoys me about Sainsbury’s Café and their delicious toasted teacake.
It’s the butter.
Nothing wrong with. It’s a good quality butter.
But, when they give it to you, it has come straight from the fridge.
It’s very, very cold.
As such, it won’t spread on the teacake, without ripping it to shreds. I have to put ‘chunks’ of butter on and then wait for it to melt, by which time my toasted teacake isn’t so toasty.
It’s a terrible, terrible thing.
Who’d want to live my life, eh?
Well, I haven’t posted any pictures of muttley for a while, so what better opportunity than during a blogging challenge?
Saber is about 14 or 15 months old now and she has more energy than the Duracell bunny.
She eats like a horse and is costing a small fortune to keep.
But, she’s also dragging Mrs Masher and I out of our armchairs and onto long walks… which can’t be a bad thing.