New Do.

I spent most of this morning re-evaluating the subtexts of Saved By The Bell via this indispensible episode guidebook: all you need is this, based on SAT scores.

The Official Bayside Intelligence Hierarchy
1. Zack (1502)
2. Screech (1220)
3. Jessie (1205)
4. Lisa (1140)
5. Kelly (1100)
6. Slater (1050)

That was a loooong time ago. Mind, if you’d seen the work I’ve had to do today, you’d understand. Compiling feedback from the summer courses I was running: this also has a quote of the day dimension. So far it’s a toss up between a complaint about which wall the clock was on, and ‘2 wiggly chairs’.

After work I have to get a haircut. This is not ‘have to’ in the sense of I ‘have to’ have food and water, or even that I ‘have to’ have coffee (arguably more essential). But nonetheless, I need a haircut. It’s a traumatic thing for a boy, in many respects. What I want is to sit down, not have to say anything for 20 minutes, then leave with a display of locks that isn’t reminiscent of either a pudding bowl or a mangy cat. But no, everwhere I go yo I gets talked at. Sigh. It’s the sad malaise of the modern man that I have found somewhere to get my hair cut: it’s near where I used to live, so a tube or drive away now; it’s turned a bit trendy which means there’s Banksy knock-offs on the orange wall; the hair-cutting is generally fine but I have to listen to the other barbers discussing (occasionally over-graphically) the passing women (the women of Arnos Grove are a mixed bag of strangeness, at best). So today I’ll venture after work to the barber where the sign is entirely in Greek, and see how it goes. I don’t have high demands for the actual styling: it’s the experience that counts.

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