Nearly had a nightmare hair-cut last night. I had a feeling something was wrong when I walked into the same barbers I’d been going to for months and none of the usual male barbers were there. An eastern-european woman motioned for me to sit down and then proceeded to take five minutes doing up the hairdressing gown thing, dropping her scissors and combs. Wasn’t sure if she was on something or just odd. She began to painfully slowly cut my hair, or rather picking at it, leaving huge clumps, different lengths and tufty bits. I was growing more and more anxious but didn’t want to say anything in case she actually knew what she was doing.

She convinced me otherwise, though, when she left my fringe cut straight across like a monk so I got up, took the barber next to us to one side and asked if he could “finish me off”. As the (obvious) professional tidied things up and repaired the damage the poor woman looked really confused. It’s not a very British thing to complain like that but I was determined to be assertive and sort things out. Hey, maybe I’m becoming a bit Kiwi!

Rugby this evening and then our last night out together as a house. We’re all moving out tomorrow and so we’ll have a couple of beers tonight. Actually, I’ve recently gotten a bit of a reputation for falling asleep in dark clubs after midnight so I’m on the Red Bulls. Helen’s got a massive bottle of vodka to drink and there’s also bacardi, JD and Southern Comfort to polish off before we go out. Might be carnage.

What do Britney Spears fans think about their president? Well, it made me laugh.