Yesterday was Tuesday and therefore meant to be really stressful. I think in future it would be easier if the Croydon lot developed some sort of card system they could hand to me when they're trying to be difficult to save their efforts from going unnoticed.
The only real thing of note is that while my father and I went to the pub for dinner my grandmother got very stressed whilst waiting her own in case the council's little crime syndicate decided to rob her again. My father decided to exacerbate this by waiting for as long as possible to tell her that we'd returned. This ruined the rhythm of an otherwise perfect evening but does highlight why containment won't work because my grandmother cannot feel safe until the criminals are jailed.
This of course all pales into insignificance by the fact I've had my hair cut and it has gone very, very wrong. So wrong in fact that I now not only look like a girl I look like a girl with a really bad haircut. I'll just have to console myself in the fact that if I know one thing about my hair it's that it will grow out.
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