The appointments book

It’s a smallish world. I was one third into my morning walk, when Mrs Pendolino waved from a nearby drive. Not hers, I might add. I had already spent a couple of days forgetting that I needed to text her to change my next hair appointment, so it was a serendipitous meeting.

As soon as I mentioned my predicament, Mrs Pendolino whipped out her appointments book, and we changed Wednesday to Tuesday, just like that, standing in somebody else’s drive. And as I continued on the remaining two thirds of the walk I blessed the sunshine for making it ‘not a bad hair day’. I mean, how can you hold your head up, running into your hairdresser in ‘mid-cycle’ so to speak, when you’re in charge of the stuff on top, if it happens to look appalling?

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