It’s a good thing I’m not trying to impress anybody. Lucky for me I don’t care what anyone thinks, because if I did, I’d have to stay indoors for the next three weeks or so. Or wear a hat.

This haircut I got yesterday? Worst ever. I could have done better myself, with or without a mirror. It’s so uneven it looks as if my “stylist” must have dropped stone cold dead halfway through the job. For almost the first time ever, I knew as soon as I left the salon that I’d been butchered. Usually it takes until the next morning before I get totally disillusioned.

I’m not ashamed to appear in public with this horror on my head. But I hate walking past the bathroom mirror looking like a failed science experiment. On the other hand, I can hardly take my eyes off it when I do see it in the mirror. It has all the fascination of the aftermath of a natural disaster. That woman with the scissors was a tornado, and I was her personal trailer park.

Of course there will be no pictures. I’m not vain, but I’m not an exhibitionist, either. The only possible reason to show myself would be cautionary, and I’m not that public-spirited. You’ll have to use your imagination.