I did my grovelling this morning, and Dr. Brouard was sympathetic in his usual wry manner. Double bonus tutorial work this week, then.   The afternoon was spent shopping and writing up practicals with Vicki. I had my first Waltercut of the term. I now feel rather chilly about the ears - it seems that in this ever-changing world the one constant is a haircut at Walters. Today's tonsorial experience was enlivened by having the Hairdresser From Hell. I shall charitably assume that she was having a bad day - heaven forbid that she should spend her entire life acting as if the world was a particularly nasty joke that God had played on her. I realised that it was not going to be an easy haircut when I tried to strike up a cheerful conversation with her, and was blanked completely. I always try to make some sort of small-talk since 'A bit more off the sides, please' does not make for a satisfying social interaction. I then blundered completely by checking that she knew that I didn't have a parting in my hair. This was met with a look of sullen outrage, as if I had doubted her skills as a professional stylist, and a vehement denial that she had even considered putting a parting in. I gave up, and she cut my hair in silence, broken only by the occasional grunt of annoyance as I moved my head slightly. Such grunts were invariably accompanied by her repositioning my head with such force and vigour that I began to suspect I had accidentally strayed into an osteopathy clinic and the haircut was merely an added bonus. When she had finished, I pushed my luck and asked for the sideboards to be thinned a bit further. This was done with such speed that I feared for my ears. I then pushed my luck even further and asked for a bit of gel to try to reduce the post-cut fluffiness. The gel (a spray-type affair) was duly fetched and then she kindly waited until I was inhaling before spraying the stuff into my face. Such is life.   We went out to the Radcliffe Arms for dinner tonight, but I couldn't face the idea of spending the evening in the bar in college with my sinuses resonating to the bass beats, so I returned home.
			The characters and situations in this diary are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happenings. Any resemblance to such things is coincidental, or just for humourous effect. All names have been chosen to implicate the innocent.