Friday, 21 October 2011

Life is an endless struggle full of frustrations and challenges, but eventually you find a hair stylist you like.

Shallow? Moi?

Today, right at the end of the day, I have booked myself a hair appointment, with my lovely hairdresser, also called Caroline - she's the owner of Now in Uckfield High Street if you're interested (Should I get a discount for saying that?)

And here is Caroline, in living colour. It does look a bit as though she's using a light sabre on that girl's neck. All I can say is, she's never used one on me! Yet.

 This indulgence is a celebration, I hope, for finishing an arduous yet successful week of work. Some people might choose a night on the town - for me it's a haircut and colour.

Lots of bad hair days lately.
I think my hair is a mirror of my soul and at the moment it's messy and out of control.

So, later on my soul will be neatly trimmed yet still curly and will have purply-blue streaks. Unless I decide, on impulse, that something different might be fun.

My hair is the subject of  Audacious Comments - but I only have myself to blame.

In an e-mail from a colleague only the other day, leaving to start a new job: "It has been a pleasure witnessing the changes in your hair design - like the changing leaves on a tree!"

Then..on one famous occasion, I was hacking along the road on Poppy - wearing a riding hat, of course -  with purply curls flying. A woman stopped me and said 'LOVE the hair. Is it attached to the hat?'

''s attached to my head' was the best I could come up with by way of response.

I think I was insulted. Or flattered. One or the other.

It's funny really, me having quite outrageous hair, because in so many ways I'm painfully shy...

Bring on the psychologist.