Shirley, you can call me what you want
Think I have most things sorted now.
The person I know in Otley (note the singular!) wants me to come up to his on Monday night. But as it's the night before, I'm going to be all over the place. And it will be an early start on Tuesday, so I'd rather be alone.
He's trying to tempt me with The Walking Dead (airs on Mondays in the UK) but I'm going to miss the end of the series anyway, so it's not enough of a draw.
Poor Rick Grimes, being passed over for therapy.
I've sorta made things up with Mum.
As I say, I didn't let her know she hurt my feelings because she doesn't need my brand of hyper-sensitivity right now (or any time!)
So normal communication has resumed, which is good. I'm going in to sort my head out; the last thing I need is pointless, recent, unresolved issues. Especially over something as silly as hair.
Funnily enough, when I had myself near-scalped, a lock of my hair fell into my bag.
Still trying to decide whether sending it to her as a joke will tickle her or annoy her.
Am thinking - as Bruce said - perhaps it won't be funny because of the chemo.
Maybe I should auction it off on here.
But I'm sure there's magic which can be done with a lock of hair...