Tuesday 14th July 2020

Tuesday. And another day off.

With the weather due to be cool and wet, it was to be a day of enforced rest.

That was the plan.

We get up at half six. Have coffee. Have breakfast. Have another coffee.

Breakfast was bacon as it seems that the whisky I drank the night before demanded it.

Jools looked at me as we ate breakfast and said, "are you going to get a haircut, I am fed up seeing what a bad job I did!"

At first I said no, but then thought about it, and decided I should.

It is a couple of weeks since they opened, so I thought there would probably still be long queues, so I take a book, plenty of change for the car park. Jools says she doesn't feel like coming along, so I'm on my own.

First, I try the one I used to use in Dover, people were lined up outside. So I went to Folkestone to see if the one I have been using for the past two years. I was expecting a long, long wait.

But when I go in, there were three empty chairs. I was shown into the one used by the boss, I was going to get tip top treatment.

He remembers me and knows what I want. He looks at what Jools had done and said she did fine, but he would sort it out.

I now understand why women go to have makeovers. After four and a half months of Jools with the cutters, my friend shaves up to a defined line, shaves again, buffs and then moves to the sides. Its half an hour before he is done and is about to tackle the thatch on top.

He goes back over and over again, snipping hairs he has missed. Finally he snips the hairs sprouting out of my ears, tidies up my eyebrows, and it is done. Took an hour. It cost £13. I gave him over double. He hugs me. Thus negating all the safety measures installed, but what the heck. I have had it easy, their business must have nearly collapsed.

I walk out lightheaded.

I buy some cider for Jools. And then walk back to the car to drive home.

It is drizzling, and is really quite miserable.

I cook aubergine for lunch, and I thought a glass of wine would go nicely. Which it did, though I felt like crap all afternoon, even went for a lay down as the bright daylight hurt my eyes.

As if there hadn't been enough pain this season, Norwich were playing at Chelsea that night, so I cook dinner, chorizo hash, and have a beer, so am all ready for when the game begins. I don't watch. Its bad enough following it on Twitter and the BBC website without seeing how poor we are, I would rather remember the free-flowing football we played last year.

Earlier, Wigan had thrashed Hull 8-0, and we expected something similar, but it wasn't that bad. Though in 90 minutes City fail to muster a shot on goal. And in first half injury time, City concede. Game over. We never come back after falling behind. Not this year.

So, the season has two more games, City are bottom and that's where we will finish. 8 defeats in a row, and more defeats in a season in over a century.

Grim.

Will be glad when the season ends next weekend and I don't have to write or think about it any more.