I Like Motorbike Men

I have to start today by saying a quick "phwoarrr" because Hugh Laurie was wearing motor-bike leathers in last night's episode of House. I have such a serious crush on that man and I love that show and I think with my having shacked up with Mr Fixit, my predilection for motorbike-riding men is a given (although we can leave bearded Harley Riders out of the equation, obviously. Also mid-life crisis Harley-riders. And tiny Italian stallions). I keep meaning to check with Mr Fixit, could House actually ride a motorbike with his crippled leg? I can get back to you with that one, if you're interested....

Finally had my haircut. Here's my before-and-after.

Better, yes? I'm so swishy-flicky now, and unusually, attracting lots of comments about the hair. With hair this long, mostly people don't notice a cut.

It's taken longer than usual to get it done because I decided to change hairdressers. When you find someone who cuts your hair well, I reckon you want to stick with them, but the chick who was cutting my hair really well was one of the Slyfoots. And so as soon as I started thinking that I really ought to get my haircut, I would start feeling tense about seeing her and this would bring up all those lovely issues again and lead to this sort of behaviour. But its taken me a while to work all this out (I'm a bit slow sometimes) and then to say to myself, a haircut should be enjoyable. So now Roberta is my new snipper and I can have nice hair and peace of mind. Bonus.

A P-plate driver knocked Mr Fixit off his pushbike on Tuesday night and then drove off. Can you believe that? Unfortunately for said P-plater, Mr Fixit does not put up with that sort of crap. Pausing only to check that he was uninjured, Fixit then leapt back onto the pushie and pursued the little toe-rag. He caught up with him at some traffic lights and proceeded to tell him what he thought of him (I can't repeat it here, there was a fair bit of colourful language). That's my fella. I still remember the day that another stupid P-plater clipped the motorbike of Fixit's friend The Bike Nazi and then kept going. Somehow the Bike Nazi stayed upright, and then of course both the boys steamed after him (complete with girlfriend pillions clutching breathlessly on behind). They caught up with him at the next red light where they jumped off their bikes, stripped off their helmets and jackets and insisted that he "pull over, get out". He was about 17, this kid, driving his Mum's car without permission and I don't think I'll ever forget his face turning to the colour of cream-cheese as these two big, angry bikers came storming up to his car door.

If you've been paying attention, you may recall that I was wondering if I could pull off a certain look in front of a new class of beginner tappers. Apparently I can. One of them turned up for class this week with her new shoes and her new leg-warmers. Look at me, all swishy-flicky hair and trendy outfits. How hot do I think I am this week?