I was just sitting here reading all about the history of the West Highland White Terrier and all about the intensive grooming required and how to keep their hair looking good and I decided I really must get my hair cut off soon.

Today, I have dipped it in the sink, dipped it in the hand basin, dipped it in the dog tucker and dipped it in my coffee.

Er, not necessarily in that order, you understand.

There is a bit of a story behind my hair. You see, when I started Polytech back in February 1999, I had never had hair much longer than shoulder length, and at that particular time it was quite short.

I decided that I was off on a big new adventure and as my hair was coming along for the ride it may as well do something useful, so it became my progress meter. While I was still learning, while I was still growing, while I was still pursuing my dream, the hair would stay.

Sick bitch, huh.

But anyway, as I studied formally for those 4 years and then spent the next two learning all sorts of new things on-the-spot to apply to addressing Colin's needs (in lots and lots of ways hehe) I never did more than trim the bottom off my hair to keep it tidy, because I was still moving forward on my chosen IT path even if the road had become somewhat harder, narrower with some really big asshol.. er potholes to dodge.

And now it has reached my waist. The hair, that is. **Feels a need to explain that and idly wonders what was in that cigarette I just smoked...**

And its a bloody nuisance. When it's tied up it looks and feels like crap; when it's down it blows all over my face when I'm driving and it tickles my nose and my neck and my back when Im asleep, it refuses to stay behind my back, it insists on being first into everything (sink, hand basin, dog tucker, coffee), and its hot and its heavy. And it's getting harder to manage when my arms aren't working so great.

I don't need it now my progress down this path appears to have ended.

So Im going to get it plaited and then cut off and Im going to put it away in the cupboard with Mum's plaits that were cropped in the latter part of the 50's. Her hair was long and thick and reached to her bum, like Heather's all butt does now ('scuse the pun).

We are a funny bunch, wait until I tell you about Reg's karaoke machine upstairs.

On the subject of hair, some horrid sow took to H with a pair of scissors after school on Wednesday and cut a hunk out, 2/3 of the way down her back. Now the snotty, uppity, lippy sow has been suspended and her accomplice has been stood down (not sure what the difference is, but there is one, apparently) and so H doesn't have to put up with her grunting at her that she is going to "punch her face in" and "give her a hiding" for a few days. I mean, this kid has to outweight H by 25 kilos. She's a big girl.

Hehe, and get this, the sow's mother's celly answerphone announcement included this little gem ..."leave your number and a message and we will probably get back to you, if we don't please call again"... or words to that effect.

She didn't ring back.

I'm going to keep paying to ring that cellphone number until I get a real person on the other end. "Yeah, right".

Oops, was that a new Tui billboard?

There are some seriously nasty kids out there. Maybe mine aren't so bad after all.

"Yeah, right".