So like fuck goddamit! Remember when my lovely hairdresser of more than 20 years Joaquín Curiel died of Covid last year, and then by chance I found a small place near my house that would do a quick wet-down and cut (no blow-drying)? Well, it turns out that as of now the staff there are no longer wearing masks, so that’s a big no way for me. Dammit. Because I don’t want someone who spends their day in close contact with the public breathing all over me at close range, even just for a few minutes. Really all I need is the quickest of cuts, a slightly angled bob, no fuss no muss. And so I turned to the good ol’ Corte Inglés. The down side is that I can’t just pop in and say – can you cut my hair now?? – I actually have to MAKE AN APPOINTMENT. On the other hand, I went in for my cut today at 5 pm and was home again at 5.20. And at least for now all the staff are wearing masks. That’ll do. For now.