Whilst others might not understand (or believe) that someone could
"O no! Gone?! ALREADY?!!" the Chuppies yelled at maximum volume this morning.
"Fraid so my good man. It's November now - Hallowe'en 'tis no more," I spouted back, all posh 'n that.
"Aww. But it still looked so fresh... ", the Chuppies whined. And then I think he had to quickly disappear in to the loo to compose himself.
But returning back to the point of this post - i.e. last night : the only evening out of the whole year where the undead are able to walk the earth once more, etc., etc.
And, not sure if my brain caught a whiff of all the dead stuff whirring around yesterday, but whilst travelling back from work on the blessed angel that is c2c, I decided enough was enough.
I had to do something about my barnet.
The last time I'd had a hairdresser run their hairdressy fingers through my locks was over a year ago and now it was looking rather drab - dead almost. So much so, that if someone were to bellow at me in the street "Oi Mrs Mouse, all the mouses in the kingdom want their mousiness back, you mousey-haired mouselet!" I wouldnt've been a bit surprised.
So, after much research on the Net, I decided to plump for a hair salon just 10 minutes or so from our bungalow, and yesterday evening at about 6pm after hopping off the c2c, I visited the joint to see what they could do.
And it was all rather fun.
Their `chief colour stylist' just happened to be coincidentally manning the reception booth on my arrival, and as I
Either that, or it might've been the slab of L'Oreal hair colour he'd wiped behind my right ear to do a quick skin test.
But anyway, so buoyant (o, and properly girlie, did I feel) that I walked full pelt back to the bungalow to regale the Chuppies with tales of hair colours and salons (he used to be a hairdresser so thought it might interest him for a coupla minutes).
Only to find he wasnt there.
The bungalow was in total darkness (save for our little toothy friend which the Chuppies must've lit and left on the mantle before departing the bungalow). His works van and car were both parked outside, his dinner plate had been washed and left on the drainer to dry, and yet there was no sign of the Chups. Scouting round the bungalow to see if he'd left a note (he hadnt) I quickly pootled to the kitchen to see if he'd taken his works Blackberry (which he uses as a mobile) ... unfortunately this was still in the drawer so I couldnt ring him to find out where he was. Pondering what to do next - I entertained thoughts of knocking up our next door neighbours (but not feeling comfortable with my imagined proposed opening liners of : "O hi - sorry to bother you - but just wanted to know if you've got my Chuppies." or "O hello, I appear to have misplaced my fella, could you assist?") - I did the only thing I could think of.
I rang mother.
Which went :-
Mother : "What?"
London-Lass : "Mum it's me."
Mother : "I know that. So?"
London-Lass : "The Chuppies is missing-"
Mother : "So he's finally fucked off?"
London-Lass : "Er. Well no. At least I dont think so. I've come back home and he's not here."
Mother : "O for fuck's sake. Christ this is boring. Shall I spell it out for you ... ?"
London-Lass : "Eh?"
Mother : "He's quite obviously popped over to the station to walk you home. With it being Hallowe'en. And all them dirty trick or treaters about. And dark now. And you've just missed each other. He'll be back soon."
London-Lass : "O right."
Mother : "O and one more thing."
London-Lass : "Yes?"
Mother : "Dont bother me unless it's important, you fucking guttersnipe!"
And, by Christ, she was right.
For as I terminated the call with a smile on my face (it's always nice having a cosy chinwag with your folks isnt it?) the Chuppies was just coming through the bungalow's front door.
Following which there was lots of hugging and "Where have you been?!" from both of us, before a general calming down in front of the log burner, and a good dose of the original Halloween with a small glass of sherry (for me) and a large glass of Southern Comfort (for the Chuppies).