I went to see my beautician today, to have the hair removed from my chin and face and get my eyebrows waxed. Every time I go I marvel at my ability to withstand torture for the sake of how I look. What fools we women are. Nevertheless I already feel better only five hours later.
I paid her £17.00 for 20 minutes work, which is far more than I could hope to earn in the time. Why are writers paid so badly? (Rhetorical question.) Of course, at my age I shouldn’t be working at all really, but I certainly couldn’t afford things like that if I didn’t.
I also booked in Jade for a grooming session and that will cost £30 but I don’t begrudge that. She will come home looking sleek and clean with all that winter fur gone, and she won’t pick up as much grime with less hair for it to cling to.
Jade of course is another reason for me to carry on bringing home the bacon. Last week she went to the vet for her annual boosters and check up. I won’t tell you how much that cost. I’m just relieved that she got a clean bill of health, even though I now have to put her on a diet and cut down the number of treats she gets. She’s a big cavvie and a little too heavy, was the verdict. Just like her mum.
We went to Sandbanks beach on Saturday and she went wild with delight and ran round and round for about 20 minutes, so that should help. Something strange has happened to the beach. It was difficult to get on and off the promenade because the sand has been blown up into dunes, with a huge drop like a moat against the sea walls. It’s usually just a flat expanse as it is in this photo, so it really did seem strange.