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| Before |
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Yesterday I had all my hair cut off - shaved actually. I couldn't stand it any more. My hair - for those who know me - grows out and not down. It grows out in a wild and woolly way and that makes it hard to look after. I really was desperate and I did need some help in that department. So, probably the two people I would trust the least to cut my hair in normal times set to with the clippers in the garden.
Plan A was to cut it to 2.5cm all over. That is 1 inch and a lot longer than I had had it done on two previous occasions. Plan A didn't work out. My hair grows in all directions from the roots so the clipper - or should I say my "hairdresser", couldn't cut it evenly. Suffice to say, the clippers got closer and closer to my scalp. After what seemed like an age, and with trial and error I finally ended up with 0.5cm of hair plus a little longer bit that still sticks out today over my right ear!
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| After |
These clippers were charged up before they first attacked my hair. The session took so much time, I began to imagine the clippers running out of power and me looking like a cross between a scarecrow and Coco the Clown - one part of my hair finished but the rest in tufts. I really had such little faith in my two novice hairdressers. Obviously there was no mirror in the garden. I judged how well it was going by their comments and they weren't inspiring me with any confidence.
We have a saying in my family that the difference between a good and bad haircut is about 3 weeks. I reckon as long as I wear a sunhat, a helmet, a scarf or perhaps a burkha, for the foreseeable future no one in Tescos will bat an eyelid. As long as I don't look in the mirror I won't develop emotional scars from this trauma either.
So from having a really amazing haircut in Paris - the best in my entire life - to this is some drop in fortune. I keep saying to myself, "I never imagined it would be like this" or, "I was expecting to be..." and I imagine lots of other people saying the same. These really are unusual times.
Yesterday I saw myself as a trendsetter, yet in The Guardian today there is an article about home haircuts. This has made me realise I am well behind the curve. Mine, by the way, didn't need a pudding basin or hair colouring either. Not only am I behind the curve, I realise that I am not that creative either!
I am also living my life betwixt two cultures. This is another thing I never expected. There are so many things that amuse me. Yesterday Iftar was roast beef and Yorkshire pudding - the full works including chard from my vegetable patch. It was a Sunday - it wasn't Sunday lunch - it was very British but it did start with a few dates. I also had wine. Wonderful!
Sometimes, I forget that the reason my life is like this is because around me people are dying in their thousands from a virulent bug. This morning brought it home to me. I had a message at 6am that a very good friend had just passed away not 30 minutes before. Despite his age and poor health, he had put up a fight and nearly beaten the virus. Another thing I couldn't have expected - a funeral for my son's Godfather.
So Marms, I really will need a hat.
Love you, stay safe
XXX
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