This week is wearing me out. I’m editor, dep ed, features editor and reviews editor, at the same time as working on a special project. It’s fun, and I’m getting an enormous sense of achievement but the weekend will be a very welcome break.

So, the gym tonight was a bit of light relief. Kevin couldn’t make it last night so we’d rearranged, and I’d agreed to cut his hair first.

I’ve never cut anyone’s hair before. It’s very therapeutic. He wanted a short mohican - a three or four for a two-inch width on top, and a one on either side. It took fifteen minutes, I’d guess, by the end of which we were nattering away like a real hairdresser and client. I almost felt I ought to be asking him if he had holidays planned, or needed anything for the weekend.

It looked great, even if I say so myself, and I’m very tempted to do the same myself. To myself, that is. Perhaps after Berlin when there’s a chance I’ll not need to match my passport again for a while. Not that I match it so well at the moment, with my current razor sharp hair - a sharp contrast to the two-foot long ponytail I eroneously grew at university, precisely when my passport was up for renewal.

My Berlin itinerary came through mid-afternoon. It doesn’t look too bad. I arrive Monday evening and my first meeting isn’t until Tuesday lunchtime, so I’m going to have to either stay up late on my first night to take nighttime pictures, or get up early for Berlin at dawn.

Or do both and suffer through the briefings.

Anyhow, the gym. It was a good workout, and before we knew where we were it was well gone ten. We retreated to the sauna where a hippoman slowly edged his towel further and further away from him in the hope we’d show him some interest. We ignored him for fifteen minutes, then left for a shower. He gave up mere seconds later and returned to get changed.

Home now, feeling springy and fit, to update OS X. Assuming, that is, I’m still awake by the time it’s finished downloading.

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