Breakfast the One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Eighth

Special K cluster thingys and apple & ginger juice.

I saw this headline today, "Grooming 'far worse than thought,'" and immediately thought of neat coiffures and well-ironed togs. (In fact it was the headline to an altogether depressing article that had nothing to do with hairdressing.)

I suppose this is what comes from attending a school that actually awarded a "good grooming" prize: not an award that I was ever in danger of receiving, given that my hair was always a bird's nest, the hem on my skirt was invariably half down, and my jumpers were full of holes.

At one stage we used to have to present ourselves for a uniform check before we were permitted to proceed to breakfast. Every morning, I would have to colour blue little patches all over my legs in order to disguise the holes in my tights.