How I spent my Tuesday

I probably should have made this yesterday's blog but I was busy giving out about the Irish, which is always going to take precedence over the state of my hair; I went for the 20s bob.

Niall was less than keen. I'm unsure if that is because he thought I would regret slicing all my hair off, because he thought I would be driven to drink by the amount of time I would have to spend styling it or because he just thought it wouldn't suit me. He has also never seen The House of Eliott.

As it is, I do not regret slicing off my hair as I know it will grow back, I will never get driven to drink as I prefer to stick to toilet duck and Niall, however nice a bloke, is Irish and the Irish do not understand bohemian styling. Neither do the Welsh for that matter but I have faith that too much eyeliner and a lot of red lipstick can be an adequate substitute. If I don't get mistaken for a Chinese girl again.

Strider likes it. Strider did not have a big hair cut. She had about 2 inches cut off. Strider also thinks I should start writing a computer games blog. She thinks my dry wit and grumpy nature will make for good readings. She is also trying to get me to write a book with her.

We took Strider down to the beach today to let her commune with nature. She likes to stride along beaches looking for shells and sea glass. She picks up rocks with holes in and says things like "Oooohhh! Look! A witch stone!"

It rained. This sent my slinky bob into a mad frenzy of excitement at its first experience of the elements. It still looked fabulous though but that was mainly because it was attached to me.

Having communed with beach nature, we took Strider to the lighthouse to commune with rock and fossil nature and hopefully a cup of tea afterwards. We sent her off down over the rocks while we sat and shivered. It may be August but it is still blinking cold. Then it started to rain again.

Knowing about things like weather systems and cloud formations we took one look at the sky and headed back to the car realising that we were all about to get drenched. Strider was far away but we assumed that she would turn around soon. We assumed wrong. As I said to her afterwards, she would have paid a lot of money for that in a day spa.

It strikes me that reading these tales of Strider, you may be getting the wrong impression of her. While she may be a belly dancing, Henna tattooed, tarot reading, nature communer, she is also a 5ft 11 fiercely right wing Tory who thinks all art is rubbish. Oh dear.