An ordinary bloke in an extraordinary world: Hair

Thursday 19 May 2011

Hair

Seemed to spend half the night awake, thinking about trivial things, but got up feeling really good. I must have sorted something out in my head, but what?

Pretty normal Thursday, Girls up fed and watered. Ritual crying from Grace when I brushed her hair. Paid the Bills popped to the Post Office, and stopped at my usual for a cuppa - The Lunchbox.

I would have put a link in but Rose the owner has not a website yet. It is a small cafe, friendly and found quite by chance tucked away down Biscombe Lane. I was at my wits end as I still had not worked out how to put Graces' hair up in a ponytail and she looked like she had been dragged through a bush backwards. Rose did it for me and I have been a regular ever since.

It should be noted that I have since worked out the method of putting Graces' hair up, but if she ever wants pigtails or a plait of the French or any other variety, then I shall pass her to Mummy or Big Sis.

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IF

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master,
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)