Tuesday

Tuesday, it was decided that we'd go to Bath. There's a park&ride there.

It's quite a long journey to Bath from Bridgwater, about 46 miles. We saw a dead sheep.

Instead of going by motorway, we went the longer way, in order to prevent me from throwing up all over the place. this meant driving through Cheddar Gorge, although i have walked and driven down this road many many times, i am always shocked by how tall and beautiful it is.

Have a look -

If you've never been to Cheddar, then you should go. There are loads of goats. I should have taken a picture of some, really, but i was too busy trying to have a conversation with one. They weren't interested. I have come to the conclusion that goats are just like sheep, only a bit smarter and more pointy.

So, Bath. I've been a few times, it is always infested with tourists and tour guides, here is my very own guide to Bath.

This is the cathedral, it's very big and has lots of windows.

These are the baths. Well, just the building they're in. I have been inside before but it's really not that exciting. I also think that "Aquae Sulis" is a better name for a town than "Bath". The Romans knew everything.

Speaking of Romans. (don't worry, this isn't a real one)

Ok. So if you're not into religion and ancient civilisations, what is there to do in Bath?

Well, there are lots of buskers, normally they're quite good but i wasn't really impressed, i suppose everything's a let down after you've seen a busker in a 1700's style velvet suit and hat playing a dulcimer.

And...

Hot chocolate (i didn't drink this so much as cover my face in it)

My favourite shop.

Jewel encrusted pigs.

Sweeties!

The oldest house in bath. This is where a person called Sally Lunn invented the Bath bun. There are always long ques out the door for an "original" Bath bun. They're not all that. In fact, they're one of the most pointless foodstuffs ever invented. Silly old Sally Lunn.

The Apple Store. here is my Grandad looking utterly baffled.

And stupid roads that want to kill you. I am exaggerating when i say i twisted my ankles about 7000 times. But i did do it a lot.

Hmm... what else? There were some rude french people but i don't think they're a permanent feature.

That's about it really.

The Science of The Combover

A comb over or combover is a hairstyle worn by bald or balding men in which the hair on one side of the head is grown long and then combed over the bald area to minimize the display of baldness."

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"Peter's combover is back."

This sentence was said to me a while ago. It is, of course, referring to my Uncle Peter. A few months ago he got rid of his combover. We had a party. He no longer looked like a paedophile.

"oh dear"

However, i am beginning to wonder HOW it "came back"?!

I don't know a lot about old men's hair, in fact, i try to avoid thinking about it at all costs, but surely you don't just wake up one morning, look in the mirror and think "goodness me, i have a combover".

This has got me think about the transitional stage from no combover to combover...

It must take a fair few months to grow hair long enough to go right over the head and cover the bald bit. How often do you see a man with a bald patch on top, very short hair one side of their head and long hair on the other side?

Or do you grow it both sides with a bald patch in the middle so you look like you have hairy spaniel ears for a while?

But then, once you've got this particularly ridiculous hairstyle, what do you do with it every morning? You brush it all down one side of your face, then... sort of... FLOP...? Do you have to straighten it first, with GHDs?

What is the problem with just being bald? Are you worried about your head getting cold, is that it? If so, why not wear a hat? You are essentially, creating your own hat out of the hair still attached to your head. That's like making a pair of trousers out of your own leg hair or shoes made from your toenails... (yes, i am also feeling a bit sick thinking about that. sorry.)

And then, what about standing in a strong wind?

How many times have you been watching the news when a presenter is standing in front of that big sign at Scotland Yard or something, telling you about a terrible murder case or something equally as serious whilst their hair is doing it's only little dance? IT'S DISTRACTING.

What about running for a bus? First thing in the morning.... you're going to have to spend the rest of the day looking like this:

That is, if you're a wizard.

And what about when it's sunny? Do you get a strange striped tan pattern on the top of your head? Do you put suncream on UNDER the hair???

The more i think about them, the most questions pop into my head!

But i must stop now, before i go a little mad.

SO, in conclusion:

The Combover - Just Don't.

Let The Right One In

Last night, i watched a film. I watched Let The Right One In, as you will know from my blog about Harry Potter, i am not good at writing about films. So i will tell you exactly what i thought:

It was really good. It was a lot less confusing than the book but it was sad and lovely and really disgusting all at the same time. I liked it a lot.

My mother said it was weird and horrible and disturbing but she liked the fact she was watching a film that wasn't in English because it made her feel "arty" (i know, she is VERY strange).

My father did as he always does through every film and was asking questions every 10 seconds:

"Is she a vampire?"

"Is he really dead?"

"What's that in the bag?"

"She is a vampire, isn't she?"

"Who's that boy, the dead one?"

"She's going to eat him, isn't she?"

"Why isn't she wearing a hat?"

...And my absolute favourite question he has ever asked...

"Is this based on a true story?"

I would have watched it on my own but my computer didn't want to play the DVD. So i watched it downstairs whilst my parents were eating dinner. They were eating pizza.

I may have commented that a man who has burnt half his face off with acid looks a bit like a pizza. I know, I am sick. Sorry.


It doesn't take a lot to give me nightmares so inevitably, i had terrible terrible dreams last night. The only thing is, instead of dreaming about vampires and blood and falling from windows on the 7th floor, i dreamt that i lived in a flat with far too many cats and they were all smelly and vicious and inbred. And i think that scared me more than a dream about the un-dead would have. Mostly because, with my mad-cat-lady mother, it's not actually that unlikely.