Reader, the other night, my family and I measured our heads. Mine was the biggest. Well, technically, it was the joint biggest with BLB, but then he's 17 years old and a good foot taller than me so I feel slightly hard done by. Then, today, while I was having a head-cast made, the scullcap was too small for my enormous noggin. They had to use pins to secure it so it didn't ping off like an elastic band at a supply teacher. I feel like a reverse weebles wobble. I wonder if my enormous head:body ratio explains some of my clumsiness? I think it may do, putting my centre of gravity entirely off kilter in a very annoying way that causes me to walk into doorframes.
To explain my earlier point, I was having head cast made so the make up girls I know could make a bust of my head on which to model prosthetics for a photo shoot we're doing in a month or so. I am very excited about this, as I will then get to keep the bust and I may spray paint it fabulous colours and put a wig on it. Or use it to scare small children. I was so excited about this headcast reader, until that is, it was on and I started to have a serious panic. You see, the headcast is made of something akin to dentist putty, which covers your eyes, mouth and...well, everything except your nostrils really. Now, my lovely make up artist kept trying to talk everything through with me but I was utterly convinced I'd be fine and was really rather gung-ho about the whole thing. And then once it was on, I realised that all that stood between me and suffocation were two tiny little holes and I began to hyperventilate. Through my nose. Which, if you were wondering, isn't easy. I nearly tore the whole thing off my face (which would have been AWFUL because it took the poor artists so long to do!) but a very lovely lady took my hand and talked me through the whole process which calmed me down a great deal, and by the end I was fine again. Although very relieved to have the thing taken off my head. It's so strange how things like that can creep up on you, especially given the fact that I was so relaxed at the beginning and completely trusted the artists to whom I had entrusted my head! But I think not being able to breathe is defo one of my Big Fears. I once had to do buddy breathing underwater with an uncle who is a lot bigger and healthier than me, so he has a bigger lung capacity and thus takes longer to fill his lungs and he took so long I had to push myself to the surface from 14 feet down, so scared was I of fainting. On hearing how much I over reacted to such a tiny thing, my mum has told me she'd rather not be there when I gave birth, for fear the over reaction would be so ridiculous she'd get a migraine. I think she was joking.
And now I'm watching football. Or rather, sitting in a room on the internet while my Granddad and Dad watch it and groan as Spurs fail time and time again. It makes them so sad, I don't know why they do it to themselves. I gave them the last mint kit kats to cheer them up but it doesn't appear to have worked. Shame. I'm SO in the mood for a Pimms. But no-one is in my area. They're all out, or on date nights, or at uni or live on the other side of the city. That's what happens when you live in the dreaded burbs though, you have to travel for an hour for a brief catch up with your chums and a ridiculously expensive glass of booze. Instead I will sit in the garden with an amaretto and a Fay Weldon novel.
So on that alcoholic note, tarrah chaps!
Ash
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