Hair and Fayre

Right now my hair looks the best it will look for the next year and a half. It has fullness, body, and flips out in all the right places. This was only achieved with three different types of styling product and a professional blow-out. When I wash my hair after going to the gym tonight, it will resume the regular program of lankness and disorderliness. But at least it no longer reaches to my lower back. We have only one small bathroom mirror in our flat, so I hadn't realised just how ridiculously long it had gotten. Embarrassing, really.

Last weekend we went to the Oxfordshire County Fayre (sic). Rather, I dragged Jeff as I had a yearning for fresh air, fresh produce and wholesome rural lifestyles. It was raining horizontally, but since we have wellies, rain pants, raincoats and umbrellas, I figured it was worth a shot (we wore all of the above and didn't regret it). The weather probably cut attendance at the Fayre by half, but those who showed up rallied in support. There were camel races and horse jumping, sheep shearing, vintage tractors and modern tractors, dog trials, a craft tent and beer tent, and demonstrations of competitions local farming kids had participated in. Competitions like advanced bread-slicing, chicken de-boning, coldcut and cheese platter arrangement, floral arrangment on a theme (England's rugby team, Elvis and the Little Mermaid were popular), wiring a plug, ironing a shirt, making a farm sign, decorating pairs of wellies, and of course art and poetry. I kid you not - these were all categories and the entries were on display with judges' comments and winners' tags. I was hoping to see those 'largest vegetable' competitions you see on Midsomer Murders, but none were in evidence.

The deflating bouncy castle gives you an idea of the weather:

Anyway, out in the middle of nowhere, at this poorly-attended but spirited little Fayre, we heard it announced that the presenter of the awards for the art and poetry competition would be none other than Alex James, former bass guitarist with Blur. And lo and behold, there he was. We huddled under an umbrella with approximately eight other people, all of whom were either parents or children receiving awards, watching this surreal event unfold. In front of me was one of the heroes of my youth, in a place and manner in which I'd least have expected to encounter him.


I think we were probably the only two people at the entire Fayre who were Blur fans - the little girl in the photo just looks afraid of him. He IS rather tall. I guiltily snuck a few photos because, hey, what are the chances? But I wasn't about to approach him - I'd nothing of interest to say and I didn't want to intrude on a family outing (he had his wife and kid with him). Far from a sign that Alex's fortunes have drastically declined, his appearance here was merely an indicator of his rural lifestyle of late. I have since discovered that he's bought a farm in Oxfordshire, and is dividing his time between writing a book and a column, appearing on radio, and exploring the art of artisanal cheesemaking. Life must be pretty sweet! Oh, and hey, he wrote about this same appearance at the Fayre here ... glad he didn't notice me taking ardent fan photos.

I've just booked flights to go back to Quebec to spend a week at the cottage again this summer, and Jeff will go back to Toronto for a week. We're hoping to fit in a shorter trip somewhere in Europe between now and then - we'll see what we can get organised. Even though I get a lot of holiday, it disappears pretty quickly. I don't know how I'll ever adjust to the North American working lifestyle again. Life is just too short.