I went out to lunch today and half the people walking round looked like aliens. Unconvincing hair, eyebrows clearly drawn on, body langauge that had to come from a different planet. The aliens were all walking around in twos; not neccessarily couples, though some were, but invariably, one unconvincing blonde, the other a dullish brunette, hair realistically greasy and split-ended, but nevertheless, clearly wigs. My favourites were two young girls, just over five foot tall, with identical wavy haircuts and mask-like made-up faces who veered past me at the crossing on New Street. They didn't notice me noticing them.
Ho hum. The situation I was worried about just got markedly worse. Inevitable, really, but grim all the same. I'm finding it hard to concentrate on writing advice pages for anonymous 13-19 year olds.