Cycling to Town

I cycle to town and buy 8 lightbulbs and a nit comb.

These purchases remind me of a joke about panic buying.

I am quite pleased that the woman in the chemist (who always has
amazingly manicured coloured and decorated nails) gives me a choice of
nit comb colours. I opt for a trendy lime green.

Whilst I can understand the disappearance of cigarettes, spare change
and clementines I really can't imagine why two nit combs have gone
missing.

There is a terrible plague of nits in my daughter's class. I am always
soaking her head in tea tree oil.

Today my malevolence towards all mankind has dwindled further and I
smile and wave at several people in the town.

I pick up two wallets of photos from the photo shop and decide to sit
on the square on a bench and peer at them. I am expecting them to be of
holidays to Ireland and Devon. Holidays are usually the time I take
photos.

I open the first wallet of photos and discover some pictures of an
extremely hideous unrecognisable couple on holiday in Greece. I look
through them all of course. The hideous couple are hamming it up beside
various classical statues and outside numerous bars. They appear to be
having a very good time. I feel slightly envious.

The second wallet of photos reveals an old friendly looking couple at a
donkey sanctuary. The donkeys are in various grumpy poses. The nice old
couple look very pleased with themselves. Twenty four pictures
featuring donkeys.

I cycle back to the photo shop and point out to the girl behind the
counter that I have someone else's photos. She is applying false nails
to her friend who was there when I picked the photos up. The friend was
talking about blonde hair dye then.

"They aren't of you then?" the girl behind the counter says.

I take the photos of the hideous couple out of the wallet and show them
to her. She looks at me and at the hideous couple. Finally she is
convinced. I tell her about the donkeys. She doesn't find it at all
amusing.

The manager is summoned and refunds my money. There is a lengthy
process where forms are filled in and I have to give examples of what
my photos might be of. I say there will be pictures of my brother and
me hamming it up beside Dublin statues and numerous photos of us in
bars. The manager finds this amusing. The girl writes "people mostly in
bars" on the form.

They will telephone me once my photos have been located. They can't
promise they ever will be but console me with the promise that kodak
will definitely give me a free film either way.

I decide I will book a haircut as I haven't had one for two years and a
new branch of Toni and Guy has opened in Murky. I am hopeful that it
might now be possible to get a decent haircut in my home town.

The women behind the counter in Toni and Guy are frighteningly well
groomed. I imagine they are looking at my hair sympathetically. I
havent brushed it for days and it is insinuating itself into dreadlocks
as usual. They can't fit me in this week. For this they look
apologetic.

I leave the shop with their card and say I will telephone them when I
have looked at my diary.

As I cycle away I become paranoid that I will arrive at Toni and Guy
for a haircut and they will discover I have nits. This mortifying
thought makes my head itch. I can't wait to get home and get that lime
green comb out.