Snip, snip…D’oh!

Last week, Mirinda’s replacement debit card arrived. I was a bit miffed that mine didn’t. Still, I had her sign her new card then cut up the old one.

Then, yesterday, amid the rubbish that the postman usually drops through our door, was an envelope containing mine. Being the organised person I am, I immediately signed it, retrieved my old one and cut it up into tiny, unrecognisable pieces. I thought no more about it.

Then, today I went up to Waitrose to buy dinner. As usual I took out my card to pay but, horror of horrors, my PIN didn’t work. It was then I realised that I’d cut up a perfectly usable card.

The new card was, in fact, the one we send to mum and dad. Fortunately, I could use my credit card so it’s not like I went hungry.

Back at home, I logged on to my bank and confirmed my stupidity. As luck would have it, I can replace a card online. Now I just have to manage without it for the next five days.

I’d left it quite late to go shopping because I was unsure what time Tiler Mark was going to turn up to put up the splash backs. Eventually he called and told me what a horrendous job he was working on. He was going to try and see if he could get to me later but, by the sound of his voice, this would be very late. I told him to come next week.

There was then the inevitable talk about grout colour. Rather than guess, he said he’d pop over on Sunday so we could choose the colour best suited, in situ. He’ll then come and tile on Tuesday.

I also had a visit from Stealthy Dave and Dan who took away the defunct stealth fire, leaving a nice open space where it has stood, useless for what seems years.

While in Waitrose, I was checking out the home hair colour options. I’m a bit sick of my grey hair and the various comments from friends and family so I figured I’d colour it myself.

It was while I was inspecting the various shades of natural that a voice behind me said “I didn’t know you dyed your hair, Gary.” It was Joanne, one of the Starbucks baristas, doing her shop. I informed her that I’d been colouring my hair for a very long time but had been somewhat remiss recently, explaining the grey. She looked at me quizzically and wondered what I meant. She insisted my hair wasn’t grey and didn’t need colouring.

A woman nearby was stacking shelves and couldn’t help but snigger. I decided that Joanne must be grey-blind.

Back at home (having dealt with the bank) I spent a good hour and a half making my hair look naturally ungrey. It felt (and looked) a lot better once it was dry. I felt young again. What a wonderful thing hair colour is.