Hair Today...

My poor darling abandoned Blogspot.  I have truly forsaken you.  I admit, you've just not been a priority lately.  But in eternal and mystified gratitude to the universe, it's all been down to having been truly freaking happy and content of late.  Living the dream (minus the dream) sort of thing.  I'm just loving life so much.  I freaking dig the crap out of my new job - it rocks out with its cock out and I don't care who knows it.  The rule of ebbs and flows still applies.  Next week is going to be a melon twister but see it's interspersed with amazing weeks that give you the head space to really think and create.  But I can tell that this is boring and of no consequence to anyone but myself.  No-one wants to read about people doing well - so in fact you should thank me for not having updated you with these mundanities (for a change).  I mean it's like what's happened to Jerseyshore.  At first it was compelling viewing, watching these young guidos riddled with doubts about their true worth as humans and taking chunks out of eachother as a result; struggling to understand their place in the world and in the meantime gradually destroying themselves with alcohol and acts driven by the lowest of self esteems.  They got rich doing this but then the endorsement deals came through and they got healthy.  Finally they got boring.  I mean who wants to watch someone looking after themselves eh?  So you see that is where I am at the moment.  Don't worry though my life pattern is one that has a tendency to repeat and for every high there is a bone- crashing low.

So watch this space.

In the meantime, I'm in recovery of sorts after broaching the 40 mark earlier this month...for I am now 41.  I found my hair has been thinning at an alarming rate.  And the more worried I became with my barnet, the more convinced I became of the notion of a self - fulfilling prophesy but I was in the grip of paranoia. Helpless to its effects.  And no matter how much I tried to just chillax -all that did was put a spotlight on the issue to the point that I became obsessed with womens' hairlines.  I would study them on public transport, at work and in magazines until finally I was able to accept that while I was unlikely to be suffering from aloepecia (I mean, I'm so happy right?) I am sadly suffering the physical effects of what is commonly known as aging - how uncouth.  So of course I've now done a truckload of research into hair and all its follicular miracles.  I have discovered (and would like to pay this forward) an amazing hair thinning shampoo - that is to say - it reduces the process rather than promote it as the name suggests. 

It's this elegant little number and it works.

So content that the Syrup (syrup and fig - wig - for the canucks reading this) will not be required anytime soon, I have now moved onto the issue of the gunt.  Remember the gunt?  Well it's still there but getting smaller as I continue to shed those troublesome middle age pounds through the physical/mental torture of spinning ( I know this because The Silverback complimented me last night and that NEVER happens).

My next recommendation is this next place (you will appreciate the irony I'm sure that I should switch from talking about weight loss to recommending a pizza place);



The place is in the heart of my old manor - Portobello Road - a mere cock-eyed stroll from my old Spanish School where I spent 10 years cowering from the wrath of nuns.  This is no ordinary Pizza place - if it were it would not serve a pizza with crispy pork belly now would it?  This is Pizza East and there is no mozzarella anywhere - it's Burrata or nothing here which I can attest is THE creamist mofoing mozarella type cheese I've ever tasted and the proscuitto isn't proscuitto it's San Daniele.  Mouthwateringly delish losh. And the clientele?  I advise one polishes up ones diction before entertaining the thought of booking a table...ah yes, also there is that - if you're name's not down you ain't coming in.  Delightful, don't you think?  The best part I think though (get the vomit bucket out) wasn't really the menu but the company of old friends and comrades.

And so on this Hollywood ending I leave you until the next time.  So, yeah don't call me - I'll call you.