Well I’m getting ready for a week of travel: to London for a few days, then via train to Paris. It’s going to be fab, and I am totally and utterly unprepared. I advise my students to do all kinds of research before they go on a trip, and here I am, the proof that those who teach do not practice what they preach. Or at least, not always.
For the London portion, I will be with my favorite anglophile, Diana, so I know I will least not be wandering around like an idiot.
And as for Paris…my idee fixe for today is that I should get a hair cut while I’m there. (I have no idea how to make proper accent marks in Typepad so I hope L’Académie française –accent marks for that created by copying and pasting from Wikipedia –will still let me enter the country.)
I really need a hair cut. I haven’t one since August, when I went to a knock-off Supercuts in a Portland suburb.
So I’ve been doing just a tiny bit of web research this evening. This Gridskipper info seemed good, but from the comments, it seems it could be a little dated.
I will keep you informed as the project proceeds. It could be tres chic. It could be muy mal. (Uh oh, I do have a tendency to mix my shaky Spanish and my fragile French, for a unique blend of nonsene that I call “Spench”.) If the hair style does work out badly, the good news is, I may have a fun story on my hands.
There is only one kind of hair cut that (I think) will make me cry. S’il vous plait: Je ne veux pas un mullet.