Whither Must I Wander

Apparantly, we Brits are terrible at Geography. This is very true.

The two Matts and I were passing the time this morning by doing the Geography quiz in The Sun. We didn't do particularly well, it has to be said. I'm only good at Europe, and then the unbelievably obvious places, like China, USA, Australia etc. etc. And, as somebody pointed out, "anyone who doesn't know where America is deserves to be shot". M and M were even more vague; when I pointed to Norway there was a long pause:

"That's..." the visiting Matt trailed off. "A Scandanavian country? Or Romania?"

"Or Romania? Are you a retard?"

So yeah. We're crap.

I cut my hair. Well, I didn't personally (that indeed would be a joke), but I've gone against the advice of Marshall ("keep it long") and Soph ("Don't you dare!") and gone for a bob. I felt like a change, and whilst I did feel slightly anxious as I watched Zoe cutting off masses of my crowning glory, I actually really, really like it. And so much less high maintenance than almost-waist-length tresses. I was looking in the mirrors in Debenhams and the shop assistant (not Ayla) said it was a bit like Julie Christie, circa 1965. So I was highly gratified. Unfortunately, she was gorgeous. I am not, but at least I don't have ratty hair any more.

I have got my costume ready for Saturday; I'm not going as a Geisha now. Everyone else seemed to be putting so much effort into their costumes, I felt I should enter into the spirit of things and go for something new.