A woman said to me once, about a previous lover that she'd seen for one reason or another, her hair looked like it had been cut with a knife and fork. She meant it as an insult, a graphic stand-in for "she looked terrible", but it took my fancy and now I often say to the hairdresser - cut it like you've done it with a knife and fork. She nods, she knows what I mean, not too sleek, a bit rough and choppy with plenty of texture.
I lost the run of that woman. Carried away on the tide of life, came in like so much flotsam and jetsam, leaving me a good descriptive phrase, and then borne away again with the pull of the moon.
Meanwhile, kitting out the new home, I treated myself to a new Sabatier utility knife and a good grips peeler, both so sharp they came packaged with guards. Amazing to cut through potatoes and very ripe tomatoes with ease, instead of leaving a jagged squashed mess. When I thought about it, I'd had the previous ones for ten and maybe forty years for the knife. No wonder my tools had become a little blunt. The handle of the knife is weighted, too, more balanced in the hand.
Another meeting with the architect, looking at all the electrical outputs - lights, power points, dimmer and two way stitches. Then the placing of radiators, and noticing that a wall had appeared or rather been left behind from an earlier version of the plans.
Piling up the car for a trip to the recycling centre, then into the village for an aubergine and an apricot Danish before dropping off some clothes at one of the charity shops. Booking a furniture collection and picking all the bobbles off a jacket ready to donate. Also dusted down the lawn mower. I don't use it now and the furniture collectors will take electrical items as well.
All on a foundation of 10 minutes Pilates. Got my heart racing, too!
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