We woke up this morning to a number of Facebook messages wishing us a happy second wedding anniversary. That's the second anniversary of our wedding, not the anniversary of our second wedding, you understand. I'm glad the messages were there, else we might have forgotten all about it! Apparently the second anniversary is cotton, although my Mum assures me it's china. There's an old list and a new list. Two years doesn't actually seem that long. There are people out there who probably think of Nathan and me as being in the first throes of a relationship. The truth is, we've been together almost fourteen years, which may explain why we ate pasta and watched RuPaul's Drag Race this evening! Rock. And. Roll! Note to self: make more effort next year!
Nathan and I both woke up with the same ear worm ricocheting through our heads this morning, which was so random I actually wondered whether one of us was actually singing in our sleep. The song in question was Julie from Les Bicyclettes De Belsize, which, in fairness, we watched with Abbie and Ian on Friday night, but it nevertheless seems a little strange that it should return to us both four days later.
According to Wikipedia, the first recorded use of the phrase "ear worm" in literature occurred in 1978 in Desmond Bagley's novel, Flyaway, which sounds like a right dystopian barrel of laughs. 98% of people apparently experience regular ear worms but women endure them for longer periods and get more irritated by them. Musicians and those with OCD are particularly prone. If you want to stop an ear worm, you should do a Sudoku. So that's ear worms dealt with.
A group of older men appeared in Costa this morning. There were six of them and they talked about politics whilst sipping coffee and eating croissants. It was very unusual to see a group of men like that. I so often come across groups of yummy mummies or school children but sixty to seventy-year old men don't tend to hunt in packs. I went off them a little when one of them was describing a woman with short hair and another said, "you mean a lesbian."
The Archway Road would appear to be the hair-dressing capital of the world. There are now six hair-cutting establishments within the two blocks stretching from Jackson's Lane community centre to Topp's Tiles. There's even a hairdressers which specialises in cutting and styling black people's hair. So if anyone's in doubt as to where to come for a new barnet, come and visit me.
I saw Llio late this afternoon. We had tea at Jackson's Lane. I have to say, I got rather used to seeing her every day during Beyond The Fence, so I was actually missing her rather a lot. It was so good to see her and she taught me how to pronounce the village my Nana grew up in. We actually got trapped in Jackson's Lane by a massive rainstorm which lasted two hours. We could hear it pounding down on the roof. Jackson's Lane is famously a converted chapel, so I was fairly astonished when Llio looked around the bar and said, "isn't it interesting how much churchy furniture they have in this building? There are pews everywhere. I wonder what that's about!"
It's been odd weather all day. As I walked back from Highgate Village, the sun was so bright I couldn't see the screen of my iPod, and when I went for a run, I almost baked myself... Until it started to hail. A man walking a dog in a pair of shorts was looking particularly confused.
"Am I imagining hail?" I shouted to him as I jogged past... "I don't know who I am any more" he replied.