My utter dislike of the necessary and regular trips to a hairdresser has been well documented here, including on this, this and this occasion, I just don't like it!
I don't of course have a problem with having a tidy barnet, hey, I'm a woman but I just can't be doing with all the inane chat and faffing, I want my hair cut, nothing less and certainly nothing more, if I wanted any other service I would ask for it, I don't need to be asked repeatedly if I want a colour/highlights/lowlights/treatments/manicure/pedicure/wax or any other of the myriad procedures on offer, I just want my bloody hair cut! I don't want pampering, I don't want treating like a faux princess and I don't want to waste any more time in there than is absolutely necessary! Please, in peace and quiet and without the unending, brain numbing blether regarding the booking status of my next summer holiday!
Hell, I have made a polite effort, I have even tried answering that one from time to time but the dumb blond wielding the scissors (ok, before someone takes me to the politically correct hair stylist police I know not all hairdressers fit the stereotype, just most that I have the misfortune to be tortured by) has on more than one occasion drifted off into a confused state when I tried to explain the joys of motorcycle touring as opposed to two weeks in Benidorm trying to contract a significant melanoma!
But, things have changed, success at last! I had a plan and a bit of luck and things on the salon visiting front are looking much improved....even to a point that I actually enjoyed yesterday's visit.
The plan; to grow my hair, thus necessitating a few less salon visits per annum.
The luck; The discovery of a hairdresser called 'Sammy'.....a stunning looking twenty something with a brain and a sense of humour, who talks about motorbikes, computers and travelling, who has a sense of reality about her profession, doesn't attempt to sell me 'product', has hamsters and kittens and makes a half decent, gratis, cup of coffee!
This girl is a star, we were reduced to something akin to raucous schoolgirls laughing and giggling for an hour and to add to my delight, as the result of a booking mix up I won't bore you with the details of, she gave me the full works, including the only 'add-on' I enjoy, an Indian (I don't know what defines it as 'Indian' but I don't care, it's good) head massage, for the price of just a cut!
I am impressed, very impressed, my first enjoyable 'hair salon event' has happened with none of the incumbent inanity, none of the usual disasters I seem to have encountered in these establishments over the years and not a single mention of the Benidorm word!
Showing posts with label Hair hell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hair hell. Show all posts
Wednesday, 26 November 2008
Saturday, 17 November 2007
Yet another haircut nightmare!
Why is it that each time I visit the hairdressers the event has a habit of turning rapidly from the relaxing, pampering experience it is suggested to us it will be into something of an ordeal?
It is well documented here how a number of my past appointments have degenerated rapidly from pleasure to pain over the years..... and again this week my endeavours at an hours relaxation and attention in the barnet department turned out not to be quite what was expected! Ok, so perhaps I should by now expect that it will not be all I wish for, but somehow I keep having faith only to go through the same realisation as I sit trapped in the chair that my faith is misplaced!
So, having managed for a year (yet again) to grow my hair into something resembling 'girly' on Monday my patience with hairdryers, straighteners and unending time faffing wore out and off I went to have it all chopped off again! Hey, I have to get out of the house for work by 6.00 am and I wear a crash helmet....'pretty' hair is just not appropriate....and anyways I can't be bothered!
Hence it was that I walked into the salon on Monday afternoon looking forward to my relaxing Indian head massage and a new look, gentle music playing, good coffee in hand and soothing things happening to my head.
Nope....what I got was a bloody building site! It seems there were 'improvement works in progress',for my future comfort I was promised ( I don't want damn future comfort I want it now please). My relaxing hour turned into something more reminiscent of an assault course! There was plaster dust absolutely everywhere, the water from the shower heads seemed to have lost all vestiges of pressure which rendered me sitting at the torturous 'back wash' for an age, refreshments were non-existent and instead of gentle music there was an accompaniment of a kango hammer, constant drilling and a circular saw!
How lovely!
There is of course always a silver lining....I didn't have to tolerate the inane drivel that usually purports to be conversation with the stylist, a few sentences shouted regarding 'what I wanted done' was all she could manage..... and I did finally get my short hair cut!
Really, if I win the lottery one time, my first consideration will be a personal stylist!
It is well documented here how a number of my past appointments have degenerated rapidly from pleasure to pain over the years..... and again this week my endeavours at an hours relaxation and attention in the barnet department turned out not to be quite what was expected! Ok, so perhaps I should by now expect that it will not be all I wish for, but somehow I keep having faith only to go through the same realisation as I sit trapped in the chair that my faith is misplaced!
So, having managed for a year (yet again) to grow my hair into something resembling 'girly' on Monday my patience with hairdryers, straighteners and unending time faffing wore out and off I went to have it all chopped off again! Hey, I have to get out of the house for work by 6.00 am and I wear a crash helmet....'pretty' hair is just not appropriate....and anyways I can't be bothered!
Hence it was that I walked into the salon on Monday afternoon looking forward to my relaxing Indian head massage and a new look, gentle music playing, good coffee in hand and soothing things happening to my head.
Nope....what I got was a bloody building site! It seems there were 'improvement works in progress',for my future comfort I was promised ( I don't want damn future comfort I want it now please). My relaxing hour turned into something more reminiscent of an assault course! There was plaster dust absolutely everywhere, the water from the shower heads seemed to have lost all vestiges of pressure which rendered me sitting at the torturous 'back wash' for an age, refreshments were non-existent and instead of gentle music there was an accompaniment of a kango hammer, constant drilling and a circular saw!
How lovely!
There is of course always a silver lining....I didn't have to tolerate the inane drivel that usually purports to be conversation with the stylist, a few sentences shouted regarding 'what I wanted done' was all she could manage..... and I did finally get my short hair cut!
Really, if I win the lottery one time, my first consideration will be a personal stylist!
Monday, 9 October 2006
A 'Monday' kinda Monday
Monday's are never good but I'm having 'one of those days', a very 'Monday' kinda Monday, call it pathetic, call it feeling sorry for myself call it what you will but it's not one of my better days, in fact it's pretty crap. It's one of those days when you just want to hide away somewhere quietly until the black cloud lifts a little, when you wish wishes really came true and when a cuddle would be good.
The reality is that tomorrow I have my interview with the official receiver, the 'day of judgment' when I will learn if I am to lose my car and it's getting way too close now to the day of Tilly's departure to her new home. If ever there was a wish I wanted to come true it was the 'save Tilly' wish but it seems it's not going to happen, we have less than a fortnight left together now and it just seems to be getting harder.
On the up side there has been one small light on today's grim horizon....I managed to open a new bank account despite my recent bankruptcy. Yup, Barclays Bank were prepared to take the risk. It's not much of a risk I grant you, the only account I am allowed as an undischarged bankrupt is very limited but it does mean I can at least get paid a salary (when I earn one) and pay my bills via direct debit, the lack of a direct debit facility in my life was beginning to cause me real problems so at least it's one less thing to worry about.
So, yayyy for Barclays ( I never thought I would say that about a bank) for giving me something of a second chance, it may be a very small step but in my recent financial life it's about the most positive thing that's happened in a long long time. For a few minutes this morning when the application was granted I almost felt 'normal', it made such a nice change to have something work out right among the melee that is my current situation.
Oh....and I had another small 'hairdressers incident' today, I might go into that another time but for now I'de rather ignore it, today probably wasn't a good day to choose to have my hair cut!
The reality is that tomorrow I have my interview with the official receiver, the 'day of judgment' when I will learn if I am to lose my car and it's getting way too close now to the day of Tilly's departure to her new home. If ever there was a wish I wanted to come true it was the 'save Tilly' wish but it seems it's not going to happen, we have less than a fortnight left together now and it just seems to be getting harder.
On the up side there has been one small light on today's grim horizon....I managed to open a new bank account despite my recent bankruptcy. Yup, Barclays Bank were prepared to take the risk. It's not much of a risk I grant you, the only account I am allowed as an undischarged bankrupt is very limited but it does mean I can at least get paid a salary (when I earn one) and pay my bills via direct debit, the lack of a direct debit facility in my life was beginning to cause me real problems so at least it's one less thing to worry about.
So, yayyy for Barclays ( I never thought I would say that about a bank) for giving me something of a second chance, it may be a very small step but in my recent financial life it's about the most positive thing that's happened in a long long time. For a few minutes this morning when the application was granted I almost felt 'normal', it made such a nice change to have something work out right among the melee that is my current situation.
Oh....and I had another small 'hairdressers incident' today, I might go into that another time but for now I'de rather ignore it, today probably wasn't a good day to choose to have my hair cut!
Wednesday, 26 July 2006
Biting the bullet
So this morning I decided I needed to 'bite the bullet' a little harder and actually make inroads into the becoming bankrupt thing.
Thus far I have dithered, I have researched it, I have considered it, I have tried to think of all the pro's and con's but I hadn't actually done anything about it....the actually doing it is kinda scary, the point of no return.
As time has elapsed the problems surrounding this delightful state of 'financial cock-up' seemed to become greater and greater (is nothing simple?), for those who consider it so, this is by no means an easy way out, the repercussions have the possibility of becoming quite daunting. Obviously I have to learn to live without the god that is credit cards (not a bad thing in reality), the threat of losing most of my possessions (like I have may!!!) including my car, without which I'm stuffed, a frozen and then non existent bank account (how in God's name do I pay direct debits I wonder?), a completely defunct credit reference for at least six years, prospective landlords taking an instant dislike to my becoming a tenant, absolutely no possibility of a mortgage without massive massive interest penalties or dodgy offshore dealings, this address, which isn't mine becoming credit blacklisted (my parents are gonna love me to bits for that one) and hell....... I don't even know how I will get a salary paid to me once I have a job, without having to divulge this damn bankruptcy thing to the world at large!
Oh...and just for good measure I have to try and raise £500 somehow to pay for the priviledge. Um.......do those seeking personal bankruptcy usually have £500 cash (unsurprisingly county courts don't accept cheques or credit cards) sitting around doing nothing then?
But hey ho, onward and upward, this morning I registered with the insolvency bods, I got the final bits of information I needed and so all I have to do now is fill in the copious number of pages with horrendous amounts of information and then go to court and be grilled for an hour or so by a judge, who in theory at least, will declare me financially inept and pass me onto a liquidator. He or she will then paw through my possessions and assets (ha ha) for anything worth taking and consider making a charge against me for three years.
Sounds like fun don't you think?!.....remind me to forget this part of my life quite quickly if you would please. Bitter? moi?
...and for good measure, whilst I'm having a crap day I have an appointment at the dreaded hairdressers this afternoon, might as well do all theyukky nice stuff at once eh?.
Tomorrow is another day...I hope! ;o)
Thus far I have dithered, I have researched it, I have considered it, I have tried to think of all the pro's and con's but I hadn't actually done anything about it....the actually doing it is kinda scary, the point of no return.
As time has elapsed the problems surrounding this delightful state of 'financial cock-up' seemed to become greater and greater (is nothing simple?), for those who consider it so, this is by no means an easy way out, the repercussions have the possibility of becoming quite daunting. Obviously I have to learn to live without the god that is credit cards (not a bad thing in reality), the threat of losing most of my possessions (like I have may!!!) including my car, without which I'm stuffed, a frozen and then non existent bank account (how in God's name do I pay direct debits I wonder?), a completely defunct credit reference for at least six years, prospective landlords taking an instant dislike to my becoming a tenant, absolutely no possibility of a mortgage without massive massive interest penalties or dodgy offshore dealings, this address, which isn't mine becoming credit blacklisted (my parents are gonna love me to bits for that one) and hell....... I don't even know how I will get a salary paid to me once I have a job, without having to divulge this damn bankruptcy thing to the world at large!
Oh...and just for good measure I have to try and raise £500 somehow to pay for the priviledge. Um.......do those seeking personal bankruptcy usually have £500 cash (unsurprisingly county courts don't accept cheques or credit cards) sitting around doing nothing then?
But hey ho, onward and upward, this morning I registered with the insolvency bods, I got the final bits of information I needed and so all I have to do now is fill in the copious number of pages with horrendous amounts of information and then go to court and be grilled for an hour or so by a judge, who in theory at least, will declare me financially inept and pass me onto a liquidator. He or she will then paw through my possessions and assets (ha ha) for anything worth taking and consider making a charge against me for three years.
Sounds like fun don't you think?!.....remind me to forget this part of my life quite quickly if you would please. Bitter? moi?
...and for good measure, whilst I'm having a crap day I have an appointment at the dreaded hairdressers this afternoon, might as well do all the
Tomorrow is another day...I hope! ;o)
Saturday, 13 May 2006
Really, paranoia is setting in!
Just what is it with me and the hairdressers?...is it God's punishment for my utter dislike of the whole performance, is it that I'm expecting too much in that just once I would like it to be a straight forward affair or am I justified in a modicum of paranoia beginning to set in!
Yes, again yesterday it was that day, the most heinous of days when I could no longer ignore the fact that my once well trimmed head was becoming something of an attraction for the local ornithological population as a possible nesting site......and so the much dreaded and put off hairdressers visit had to be faced.
Regulars here will recall my previous near disasters in these emporiums, where in my case, far from being pampered and preened I am usually subjected to one small aggravation or trauma after another. Not only is it bad enough that I have to be subjected to the horrors of the backwash, the inane 'where are you going on holiday this summer' chatter and the appalling coffee...no, for me there have of late also been various other 'attractions' to make my visit moreinsufferable pleasing.
Things did at least get off to a better start this time than the last in that I managed to find the place without making an utter fool of myself with the local constabulary but the situation began to degenerate rapidly from there on in.
Upon walking through the door I was met with a slightly strange look, you know, one of those moments when you just know something is not quite right but you are at a loss to place your digit on exactly why. I was greeted politely but then nothing, none of the 'can I take your coat' (ok I wasn't wearing one but hey...) or would you like autterly awful cup of coffee standard walk through the door questions. My stylist, Fiona, just looked at me slightly confused....before asking eventually if I would like to make an appointment!! This was patently not a good beginning. Already feeling a degree of exasperation setting in I explained that I had an appointment, at which she looked at her book blankly and returned 'no you don't'. Much discussion followed but eventually my being able to tell her with whom I spoke on the phone etc. a degree of belief gradually set in.....bear in mind here the place was almost empty and just getting on with the hair cutting business was not going to present a problem with clients queued out the door!! Finally the source of the error was discovered, the dippy bint who has taken my call had placed me in someone else's schedule, and things got under way with my being (now more politely) fastened into the torturous backwash.....oh my favourite moment, having the blood to my brain cut off for ten minutes whilst my head is subjected to various positions and usually unskilled attempts at head massage. Ten minutes, you gotta be kidding, things began to go from bad to worse!
This establishment is not the most salubrious of salons, it's staff whilst nice, could maybe benefit from a little customer service training, I go there for one reason only, the girl with the scissors knows what she's doing.....those with the shower head are somewhat lacking in the finer points of attentive service and whilst being subjected to the neck breaking experience have a habit of talking among themselves over the clients head....and worse.
So there I am, completely powerless, draped in the various delightful gowns and towels, head bent unnaturally backwards just wishing the whole process could be over before my head falls off and her with the shampoo on her hands suddenly stops, dries her hands....and begins texting someone!! I begin to feel the possibility of a curt interjection here but decide to shut up in the hope that she will return to her task the sooner. Texting over she then begins a conversation about the content of the text with a colleague, a girl who looks about 12 years of age (ok, so I'm showing my age)as the conversation progresses thankfully so does the hairwashing, along finally with the standard question, 'would I like a coffee'. In a state of beginning desperation I decide to risk it, at the rate this visit is unfolding I'm gonna need something to keep me awake! This prompts the twelve year old into some kind of action other than chatter and text and she unplugs the kettle situated in the same room and in one movement marches over to the back wash at which I am currently suffering my torture (there is another but she ignores it), grabs the shower hose from her colleague and jams the kettle under it for filling.....hitting me on the head twice in the process!! There is no apology, no 'Oh I'm terribly sorry madam are you alright', nope nothing, her reaction is that of someone who provides cranial assault as an extra service to each client! Ok, my patience is somewhat thin at this point and I feel it necessary to point out that this is not really an idea treatment...she did apologise, her customer service skills I thought were finally coming into play but no....as swiftly as she apologised she offered an excuse.....that the kettle wouldn't fit in the basin with my head .....FFS....yes, I know sunshine, that point was obvious even to me it was my bloody head you attempted to remove in your endeavors, my sarcasm was lost and I shut up deciding that to point out there was another basin would only be further wasting my time.
Things settled for a minute or two and the head scrubbing began again in earnest as the kettle began to boil noisily in the background. Things were not to remain calm. Moments later my twelve year old abuser screamed and ran to the doorway shouting 'look at the cup' look at that cup'!! Shampoo girl immediately stopped shampooing again and I struggled from my unnatural position....we looked at the cup, yes, sure as eggs is eggs it was a cup, white, pot thing with handle, hanging on a mug tree...we were at a loss to know exactly what it was we were supposed to be noticing.....twelve year old enlightened us rapidly in a near hysterical tone before running out of the room completely, all thoughts of my coffee forgotten. The mug was swinging gently in its place,now to you or me this might seem not to be a point of note but apparently we would be very wrong for twelve year old was utterly convinced that this was a case of the paranormal.....that the mug was swinging entirely unaided, there could be no other explanation than she was in the presence of a ghost...there would of course be no possibility that she had knocked it, it being in close proximity to the kettle and her other antics! She would not be convinced and remained dithering in the doorway .......Ok, so enough already with as much calmness in my voice as I could muster I reminded shampoo girl that I was still dripping infront of her, informed her that a second lathering and conditioner would not be required and please, could she just get this stuff off my damn head and let the lady with the scissors at me!
She dared to look slightly affronted at my tone but at last did the necessary and released me from my torture! Oh.... and the coffee never did materialize but I thought better of risking a repeat of that debacle again!
Surely, just one time I can pay a visit to a hairdressers and it be simple....yup, paranoia is definitely beginning to set in!
Please note: gratuities were not bestowed!....but I have pre-empted the usual requests for a picture of the result this time. ;oP
Yes, again yesterday it was that day, the most heinous of days when I could no longer ignore the fact that my once well trimmed head was becoming something of an attraction for the local ornithological population as a possible nesting site......and so the much dreaded and put off hairdressers visit had to be faced.
Regulars here will recall my previous near disasters in these emporiums, where in my case, far from being pampered and preened I am usually subjected to one small aggravation or trauma after another. Not only is it bad enough that I have to be subjected to the horrors of the backwash, the inane 'where are you going on holiday this summer' chatter and the appalling coffee...no, for me there have of late also been various other 'attractions' to make my visit more
Things did at least get off to a better start this time than the last in that I managed to find the place without making an utter fool of myself with the local constabulary but the situation began to degenerate rapidly from there on in.
Upon walking through the door I was met with a slightly strange look, you know, one of those moments when you just know something is not quite right but you are at a loss to place your digit on exactly why. I was greeted politely but then nothing, none of the 'can I take your coat' (ok I wasn't wearing one but hey...) or would you like a
This establishment is not the most salubrious of salons, it's staff whilst nice, could maybe benefit from a little customer service training, I go there for one reason only, the girl with the scissors knows what she's doing.....those with the shower head are somewhat lacking in the finer points of attentive service and whilst being subjected to the neck breaking experience have a habit of talking among themselves over the clients head....and worse.
So there I am, completely powerless, draped in the various delightful gowns and towels, head bent unnaturally backwards just wishing the whole process could be over before my head falls off and her with the shampoo on her hands suddenly stops, dries her hands....and begins texting someone!! I begin to feel the possibility of a curt interjection here but decide to shut up in the hope that she will return to her task the sooner. Texting over she then begins a conversation about the content of the text with a colleague, a girl who looks about 12 years of age (ok, so I'm showing my age)as the conversation progresses thankfully so does the hairwashing, along finally with the standard question, 'would I like a coffee'. In a state of beginning desperation I decide to risk it, at the rate this visit is unfolding I'm gonna need something to keep me awake! This prompts the twelve year old into some kind of action other than chatter and text and she unplugs the kettle situated in the same room and in one movement marches over to the back wash at which I am currently suffering my torture (there is another but she ignores it), grabs the shower hose from her colleague and jams the kettle under it for filling.....hitting me on the head twice in the process!! There is no apology, no 'Oh I'm terribly sorry madam are you alright', nope nothing, her reaction is that of someone who provides cranial assault as an extra service to each client! Ok, my patience is somewhat thin at this point and I feel it necessary to point out that this is not really an idea treatment...she did apologise, her customer service skills I thought were finally coming into play but no....as swiftly as she apologised she offered an excuse.....that the kettle wouldn't fit in the basin with my head .....FFS....yes, I know sunshine, that point was obvious even to me it was my bloody head you attempted to remove in your endeavors, my sarcasm was lost and I shut up deciding that to point out there was another basin would only be further wasting my time.
Things settled for a minute or two and the head scrubbing began again in earnest as the kettle began to boil noisily in the background. Things were not to remain calm. Moments later my twelve year old abuser screamed and ran to the doorway shouting 'look at the cup' look at that cup'!! Shampoo girl immediately stopped shampooing again and I struggled from my unnatural position....we looked at the cup, yes, sure as eggs is eggs it was a cup, white, pot thing with handle, hanging on a mug tree...we were at a loss to know exactly what it was we were supposed to be noticing.....twelve year old enlightened us rapidly in a near hysterical tone before running out of the room completely, all thoughts of my coffee forgotten. The mug was swinging gently in its place,now to you or me this might seem not to be a point of note but apparently we would be very wrong for twelve year old was utterly convinced that this was a case of the paranormal.....that the mug was swinging entirely unaided, there could be no other explanation than she was in the presence of a ghost...there would of course be no possibility that she had knocked it, it being in close proximity to the kettle and her other antics! She would not be convinced and remained dithering in the doorway .......Ok, so enough already with as much calmness in my voice as I could muster I reminded shampoo girl that I was still dripping infront of her, informed her that a second lathering and conditioner would not be required and please, could she just get this stuff off my damn head and let the lady with the scissors at me!
She dared to look slightly affronted at my tone but at last did the necessary and released me from my torture! Oh.... and the coffee never did materialize but I thought better of risking a repeat of that debacle again!
Surely, just one time I can pay a visit to a hairdressers and it be simple....yup, paranoia is definitely beginning to set in!
Please note: gratuities were not bestowed!....but I have pre-empted the usual requests for a picture of the result this time. ;oP
Thursday, 9 March 2006
I hate going to the hairdressers!
Today heralded one of the as 'infrequent as possible' trips to the hairdresser, there was no escaping the fact that my once neatly trimmed locks were beginning to favour an Old English Sheepdog and so the appointment was made and off I set this afternoon with the usual lack of glee such trips hold for me.
Things as ever were not to progress easily, though on this occasion that was due for the main part to my own stupidity. Let me explain.
My hairdresser left her usual emporium of employment a few months back after some altercation with her boss. Things were looking good, twice she came to my home to do the deed, a far more preferable option than the trek into town and tolerating of the usual hoo ha. But this happy state of affairs (for me not her I might add) was not to continue and soon she was re-employed, it was to this new salon I was to go today.
Only I didn't listen when I was told the name and address of said business premises. Instead I thought to myself that I could easily find it, the town afterall is not big. I thought I knew the address and I thought I knew where that address was.....wrong!
Having scampered, now late, the length of the street had I imagined my port of call to be situated on, I realised that the street name was not the one I expected. Plan A having failed it was onto plan B, look for the shop name....er...suddenly it became very apparent to me that this was another vital piece of information I somehow had ignored!
As I mulled over my options I noticed I was stood outside the police station, that's it I thought, I'll just pop in there and ask, there's bound to be a civilian on the front desk who will help me. Bear in mind this is a small town, the local bobbies mostly know me from work and they know I have to attend court to give evidence soon. Well after today's embarrassing debacle I doubt they think I'm fit to organise a child's tea party let alone be a reliable witness.
I had imagined having a quick conversation, being given directions to the street I wanted and exiting....if only it had been that simple! I was met by change by a police officer just inside the door and in the foyer were a number of people all just pertinently positioned to hear my stupidity! Gah.
So I asked a little meekly for directions to the street I wanted and was duly given them....but I protested that I knew there was no hairdressers on that street. I should have known better, oh silly, silly me, I should have taken my window of opportunity when it presented itself and fled, but no, I was having an utterly 'stupid' day. The bobby tried again, asking the name of the establishment I was looking for. At this point I just knew I was about to be horribly embarrassed....who on earth goes to the local nick to ask the way to a hairdressers? Stumped I muttered that I didn't know the name, the look on his face said it all. I mumbled some more that it had a name something like 9/11 but that no one could possibly name a hair salon that, so I must be wrong...maybe, I offered pathetically, it was 7/11, I had some recollection by now that the name included the number eleven.....but I was rambling by this point, as one does when one is mortally embarrassed.
I was dying a death here, the officer landed with me obviously doubted my sanity, the onlookers were sniggering and I was stood there blustering like a fool just wanting to escape......but things were to get worse yet!
"You think the name has an eleven in it do you" the officer asked me, "yes" I replied, just wishing I could get the hell out and go find it myself now. "Ah", came his reply, "I think I might know the place you are looking for". relieved that I might soon escape I awaited his direction....but no word came, instead he took me by the arm, propelled me politely out of the door to the pavement and pointed straight ahead. "is that the place you're after I wonder" he said.....and there, directly opposite us was a salon with the words in foot high letters along the front saying 'Hair @ eleven"!!!
Need I say more.......to add insult to injury my hairdresser, who was waiting for me wondering where I had got too, was stood in the window laughing for all she was worth! Bitch!
Please, I don't ever want to be reminded of this incident again, I'm off to crawl into a big fat hole of embarrassed stupidity now.
Things as ever were not to progress easily, though on this occasion that was due for the main part to my own stupidity. Let me explain.
My hairdresser left her usual emporium of employment a few months back after some altercation with her boss. Things were looking good, twice she came to my home to do the deed, a far more preferable option than the trek into town and tolerating of the usual hoo ha. But this happy state of affairs (for me not her I might add) was not to continue and soon she was re-employed, it was to this new salon I was to go today.
Only I didn't listen when I was told the name and address of said business premises. Instead I thought to myself that I could easily find it, the town afterall is not big. I thought I knew the address and I thought I knew where that address was.....wrong!
Having scampered, now late, the length of the street had I imagined my port of call to be situated on, I realised that the street name was not the one I expected. Plan A having failed it was onto plan B, look for the shop name....er...suddenly it became very apparent to me that this was another vital piece of information I somehow had ignored!
As I mulled over my options I noticed I was stood outside the police station, that's it I thought, I'll just pop in there and ask, there's bound to be a civilian on the front desk who will help me. Bear in mind this is a small town, the local bobbies mostly know me from work and they know I have to attend court to give evidence soon. Well after today's embarrassing debacle I doubt they think I'm fit to organise a child's tea party let alone be a reliable witness.
I had imagined having a quick conversation, being given directions to the street I wanted and exiting....if only it had been that simple! I was met by change by a police officer just inside the door and in the foyer were a number of people all just pertinently positioned to hear my stupidity! Gah.
So I asked a little meekly for directions to the street I wanted and was duly given them....but I protested that I knew there was no hairdressers on that street. I should have known better, oh silly, silly me, I should have taken my window of opportunity when it presented itself and fled, but no, I was having an utterly 'stupid' day. The bobby tried again, asking the name of the establishment I was looking for. At this point I just knew I was about to be horribly embarrassed....who on earth goes to the local nick to ask the way to a hairdressers? Stumped I muttered that I didn't know the name, the look on his face said it all. I mumbled some more that it had a name something like 9/11 but that no one could possibly name a hair salon that, so I must be wrong...maybe, I offered pathetically, it was 7/11, I had some recollection by now that the name included the number eleven.....but I was rambling by this point, as one does when one is mortally embarrassed.
I was dying a death here, the officer landed with me obviously doubted my sanity, the onlookers were sniggering and I was stood there blustering like a fool just wanting to escape......but things were to get worse yet!
"You think the name has an eleven in it do you" the officer asked me, "yes" I replied, just wishing I could get the hell out and go find it myself now. "Ah", came his reply, "I think I might know the place you are looking for". relieved that I might soon escape I awaited his direction....but no word came, instead he took me by the arm, propelled me politely out of the door to the pavement and pointed straight ahead. "is that the place you're after I wonder" he said.....and there, directly opposite us was a salon with the words in foot high letters along the front saying 'Hair @ eleven"!!!
Need I say more.......to add insult to injury my hairdresser, who was waiting for me wondering where I had got too, was stood in the window laughing for all she was worth! Bitch!
Please, I don't ever want to be reminded of this incident again, I'm off to crawl into a big fat hole of embarrassed stupidity now.
Wednesday, 2 November 2005
The long and the short
I'm doing it again, the almost quarterly 'do I or don't I' thing with my hair! I seem to tolerate the bits in my face, the hours drying and fiddling malarky every day just to prevent myself from looking like a bag lady, the having to pull a brush through it every time there is so much as a puff of wind and the sore head from tying it up........ and then my perseverance deserts me and to have it hacked off real short suddenly become almost irresistible!
The thought of a five minute shuffle over it with the dryer, no sore head and the ability to be able to move off the mark without a hairbrush glued to my hand is once again becoming an extremely attractive proposition but then there is the big down side to be considered. Short hair necessitates far more frequent forays to dreaded, time consuming and terminally boring hairdressers.
Oh....and having had the 'deed done', there is ever the question of regret. Women! Fickle creatures eh?
Hey ho, we will see what today brings but a hacking I think, is very likely!
*EDIT: Chopping booked ~ 15.00 hrs, today. Eekkkk.
The thought of a five minute shuffle over it with the dryer, no sore head and the ability to be able to move off the mark without a hairbrush glued to my hand is once again becoming an extremely attractive proposition but then there is the big down side to be considered. Short hair necessitates far more frequent forays to dreaded, time consuming and terminally boring hairdressers.
Oh....and having had the 'deed done', there is ever the question of regret. Women! Fickle creatures eh?
Hey ho, we will see what today brings but a hacking I think, is very likely!
*EDIT: Chopping booked ~ 15.00 hrs, today. Eekkkk.
Wednesday, 12 October 2005
I can't help but laugh
Well, my day is done, all tasks complete but not without the usual hairdresser mishap. Why can I never go to that place without there being some minor 'carry on'. As it is I avoid all and any attempts to persuade me there until it really has to be done and still something, albeit minor, always happens.
In the past it has been arguing staff allowing their personal affairs to spill over into the public domain, on another occasion a young female stylist received a text message from her boyfriend 'ditching' her rather unkindly that resulted in tears and tantrums in the salon, I have had a cup of coffee poured over my foot when it's server tripped and I have had my hair emit smoke. You might wonder why I still patronize this establishment, well aside from these few minor mishaps it is the best in town at what it is supposed to do, the business of haircutting, and I'm kinda getting to be amused by the minutiae of life that I see there for the half an hour I visit now and again.
Today's mishap? Nothing catastrophic, just amusing. I was taken to the dreaded backwash by a new and very young apprentice, desperate to do everything right, as ever I asked her to only wash once and no conditioner for fear of acquiring a permanent neck injury and off she set. All was well, she was a little light of touch but hey, she was new and nervous and then it all went horribly wrong. Rinse time....she dropped the shower head, on my head, in her panic at retrieving it she dropped it again and this time it did that thing showers 'do' of twisting itself around and sending a shower of water over my face. By now I was laughing out loud, she tried again in panic to rescue the offending implement but in her efforts managed to shower me from chest to knees! The poor girl could easily have died, I tried my best, I honestly did, to assure her no harm was done but I just couldn't help laughing almost hysterically at the look on her managers face and the whole awful-ness of it all to her, new in a business where customer service is considered all. My heart bled for her really..... but still I laughed!
So having completed the hairdressing task I set off on foot newly washed cut and straightened for the police station....in the pouring rain, with no umbrella. By the time I arrived I was favouring a drowned rat but in I went and was immediately ushered away. Apparently in this 'we have to prove guilt' environment it has to be assured that I could not have spoken to anyone else whilst I waited and therefore perverted the course of justice or some such. So I waited, with my minder, a P.C. who seemed thoroughly bored by the proceedings and sat in this little room with me without uttering a sound.
Luckily I had only to wait a few minutes before I was collected. Identity parades are certainly not what they used to be. To cut a long and video taped story short I was required to watch a video of nine images, twice, and when asked offer my identification if I could.
Any worry that I had quietly harboured about letting the whole system down by not being able to identify the suspect very rapidly disappeared, the moment I saw his unpleasant face I knew beyond any doubt.
And that was it, job done, a few signatures and warnings about not discussing it with a colleague who is also to go through this process and I was out on the street again, in the rain, with my already catastrophically wet new hair 'do' only slipping further into the abyss of bad hair days!
I can't help but laugh.....£30 to look like a drowned rat, tsk! :o)
In the past it has been arguing staff allowing their personal affairs to spill over into the public domain, on another occasion a young female stylist received a text message from her boyfriend 'ditching' her rather unkindly that resulted in tears and tantrums in the salon, I have had a cup of coffee poured over my foot when it's server tripped and I have had my hair emit smoke. You might wonder why I still patronize this establishment, well aside from these few minor mishaps it is the best in town at what it is supposed to do, the business of haircutting, and I'm kinda getting to be amused by the minutiae of life that I see there for the half an hour I visit now and again.
Today's mishap? Nothing catastrophic, just amusing. I was taken to the dreaded backwash by a new and very young apprentice, desperate to do everything right, as ever I asked her to only wash once and no conditioner for fear of acquiring a permanent neck injury and off she set. All was well, she was a little light of touch but hey, she was new and nervous and then it all went horribly wrong. Rinse time....she dropped the shower head, on my head, in her panic at retrieving it she dropped it again and this time it did that thing showers 'do' of twisting itself around and sending a shower of water over my face. By now I was laughing out loud, she tried again in panic to rescue the offending implement but in her efforts managed to shower me from chest to knees! The poor girl could easily have died, I tried my best, I honestly did, to assure her no harm was done but I just couldn't help laughing almost hysterically at the look on her managers face and the whole awful-ness of it all to her, new in a business where customer service is considered all. My heart bled for her really..... but still I laughed!
So having completed the hairdressing task I set off on foot newly washed cut and straightened for the police station....in the pouring rain, with no umbrella. By the time I arrived I was favouring a drowned rat but in I went and was immediately ushered away. Apparently in this 'we have to prove guilt' environment it has to be assured that I could not have spoken to anyone else whilst I waited and therefore perverted the course of justice or some such. So I waited, with my minder, a P.C. who seemed thoroughly bored by the proceedings and sat in this little room with me without uttering a sound.
Luckily I had only to wait a few minutes before I was collected. Identity parades are certainly not what they used to be. To cut a long and video taped story short I was required to watch a video of nine images, twice, and when asked offer my identification if I could.
Any worry that I had quietly harboured about letting the whole system down by not being able to identify the suspect very rapidly disappeared, the moment I saw his unpleasant face I knew beyond any doubt.
And that was it, job done, a few signatures and warnings about not discussing it with a colleague who is also to go through this process and I was out on the street again, in the rain, with my already catastrophically wet new hair 'do' only slipping further into the abyss of bad hair days!
I can't help but laugh.....£30 to look like a drowned rat, tsk! :o)
Here's lookin' at you
Much of this area has woken this morning to severe flooding, the local television news is carrying images of towns within 30 miles of here under many feet of water but thankfully for us, whilst we had torrential rain for most of yesterday it has been nothing like as bed as areas further west. There is a small stream to the rear of this property which over night has turned into a raging torrent, broken it's banks quite spectacularly and flooded the fields through which it runs but that aside we seem to have escaped lightly.....though it is still raining.
This afternoon I am forced to vacate this seat and make my way into town which has the potential to be quite and 'interesting' journey, the road I am bound to take floods relatively easily let alone after the level of rainfall we have experienced in the last twenty four hours.
I have to say I would prefer not to be going out at all, the purpose of my journey is to attend the identity parade I was summoned to last week so I can't avoid it or make my excuses, it has to be done so whilst I am having to make the trip I will kill two birds with one stone and pay a visit to my less than favourite place....the hairdressers! Ugh....any one of you familiar with my witterings here will know just how much I don't enjoy the hairdresser hoo ha and of course there is the decision to be made.....just a trim and keep growing or hack the whole lot off and be done with it. We'll see, I'll decide when I get there.
On the subject of the identity parade It strikes me that the process should be re-named for it appears that no-one actually 'parades' any longer, nope, technology has made it's way even to the identifying of a suspect and I am given to understand that it is all on video....somehow it just doesn't seem the same does it and I would imagine it makes it more difficult in some respects but hey ho time will tell, I just hope that I can I.D. the guy unquestionably, I know he did it and he knows he did it...... despite what he might want the legal system to believe!
It's no wonder the police get frustrated, all this performance over a crime I know with absolute certainty he committed but as ever it seems is the way it is down to the innocent to prove the guilt. Believe me when I say I have sat in court and listened to many a toe-rag spout absolutely unbelievably stupid tales in their defence and the magistrate takes it all in, behaves like cops and security staff lie for a living and return a 'not guilty'.....ok, ok, I know it's not quite as simple as that, there is the 'reasonable doubt' issue and no one would advocate any miscarriage of justice but hells bells, it just seems to have swung so far in the opposite direction that any one who feels like defending themselves with a heap of BS can have a magistrate eating out of their hand and escape punishment with any old tale of ridiculous claptrap.
Arghhh......don't get me started on that one! I'll stop now I think before my soap box disintegrates in the rain!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And completely off topic for those who kindly asked, 'small cat' is as happy as a pig in muck again, chattering away and rolling around on her back relaxed and happy, she was even heard to emit a purr last night, something that until recently we thought she just couldn't do and have rarely heard from her even in her happiest moments. She spent a couple of hours scouring the place yesterday afternoon for any sign of the kitten, backed off from a few places where she could obviously still smell her and then eventually satisfied she was gone, returned to her normal happy self.
This afternoon I am forced to vacate this seat and make my way into town which has the potential to be quite and 'interesting' journey, the road I am bound to take floods relatively easily let alone after the level of rainfall we have experienced in the last twenty four hours.
I have to say I would prefer not to be going out at all, the purpose of my journey is to attend the identity parade I was summoned to last week so I can't avoid it or make my excuses, it has to be done so whilst I am having to make the trip I will kill two birds with one stone and pay a visit to my less than favourite place....the hairdressers! Ugh....any one of you familiar with my witterings here will know just how much I don't enjoy the hairdresser hoo ha and of course there is the decision to be made.....just a trim and keep growing or hack the whole lot off and be done with it. We'll see, I'll decide when I get there.
On the subject of the identity parade It strikes me that the process should be re-named for it appears that no-one actually 'parades' any longer, nope, technology has made it's way even to the identifying of a suspect and I am given to understand that it is all on video....somehow it just doesn't seem the same does it and I would imagine it makes it more difficult in some respects but hey ho time will tell, I just hope that I can I.D. the guy unquestionably, I know he did it and he knows he did it...... despite what he might want the legal system to believe!
It's no wonder the police get frustrated, all this performance over a crime I know with absolute certainty he committed but as ever it seems is the way it is down to the innocent to prove the guilt. Believe me when I say I have sat in court and listened to many a toe-rag spout absolutely unbelievably stupid tales in their defence and the magistrate takes it all in, behaves like cops and security staff lie for a living and return a 'not guilty'.....ok, ok, I know it's not quite as simple as that, there is the 'reasonable doubt' issue and no one would advocate any miscarriage of justice but hells bells, it just seems to have swung so far in the opposite direction that any one who feels like defending themselves with a heap of BS can have a magistrate eating out of their hand and escape punishment with any old tale of ridiculous claptrap.
Arghhh......don't get me started on that one! I'll stop now I think before my soap box disintegrates in the rain!
And completely off topic for those who kindly asked, 'small cat' is as happy as a pig in muck again, chattering away and rolling around on her back relaxed and happy, she was even heard to emit a purr last night, something that until recently we thought she just couldn't do and have rarely heard from her even in her happiest moments. She spent a couple of hours scouring the place yesterday afternoon for any sign of the kitten, backed off from a few places where she could obviously still smell her and then eventually satisfied she was gone, returned to her normal happy self.
Friday, 10 June 2005
It must be summer
How do I know? I know because we have now had two or three unbroken days of sunshine, the heating is finally off and I am not wearing a fleece! That alone is a very rare occurrence in gemmaks-ville. Hell, I have arms!
It has been another beautiful day, almost cloudless skies and those clouds that there are just little white puffy things loitering high up in the sky and in no danger of blocking the sun. The birds are singing, there is the occasional buzz of a lawnmower as a few locals make the most of the opportunity and small cat and old puss are sunning themselves on the balcony. Doubtless summer will be over by tomorrow, there is rain showing on my forecast machine.
The day has only been marred by the quarterly, almost forced trip to the hairdressers, how I hate it. This time I had a plan, I washed my hair just before I left for my appointment and I didn't dry it, the theory being that it would still be wet when I arrived and I wouldn't have to suffer the purgatory that is the back wash. I hadn't of course taken into consideration that the temperature in my car for the half hour drive would be so high and that my hair would be a bone dry frizz atop my head' by the time I arrived! Damn, my cunning plan was foiled and I was immediately ushered, protesting a little and trapped in a gown, to the dreaded, torturous hair washing 'machine'. Gah. I gritted my teeth, begged for only one shampoo and lived through it. I'm sure those gowns are designed with no arms to prevent escape, have you ever noticed the similarly to a straight jacket?
The good news is that the 'hair growing' plan is finally coming to fruition, I was informed by the stylist, who looked rather pleased with herself like she had actually made my hair grow all by herself, that my layers are now almost history and all I have to do now is let this confounded mop grow.....ha, even less visits to the hair salon for me from this point on!
I had another plan, a lazy plan to ditch my car in the car wash while I was in town, that too was thwarted when like a useless, weak woman I couldn't detach the ariel from the roof. I normally manage it without problem but on this occasion it was stuck fast, no doubt corroded or tightened by PG. After a few attempts I decided it better to beat a hasty retreat and pretend like I didn't want to unscrew the damn thing anyways....well, I wasn't gonna ask a man was I and as none offered assistance I left still clutching my unused wash token!
The evening holds promise. Dinner should arrive home with PG, no prizes for guessing where he has spent the afternoon. The lady who caters for the golf club (who's cat incidentally is Ditto's mother) frequently makes us a real dinner, packs it up and sends it home with him. I don't think this is a usual service but as she likely sees more of PG than I do they are good friends and he gets slightly special treatment. (No jokes please!). The no-cooking meal will be followed by a stroll up the road for a one to one with the local lambs, cows and rabbits and then it's home in time of course to see who is evicted from celebrity love island.
I'm easy pleased!
It has been another beautiful day, almost cloudless skies and those clouds that there are just little white puffy things loitering high up in the sky and in no danger of blocking the sun. The birds are singing, there is the occasional buzz of a lawnmower as a few locals make the most of the opportunity and small cat and old puss are sunning themselves on the balcony. Doubtless summer will be over by tomorrow, there is rain showing on my forecast machine.
The day has only been marred by the quarterly, almost forced trip to the hairdressers, how I hate it. This time I had a plan, I washed my hair just before I left for my appointment and I didn't dry it, the theory being that it would still be wet when I arrived and I wouldn't have to suffer the purgatory that is the back wash. I hadn't of course taken into consideration that the temperature in my car for the half hour drive would be so high and that my hair would be a bone dry frizz atop my head' by the time I arrived! Damn, my cunning plan was foiled and I was immediately ushered, protesting a little and trapped in a gown, to the dreaded, torturous hair washing 'machine'. Gah. I gritted my teeth, begged for only one shampoo and lived through it. I'm sure those gowns are designed with no arms to prevent escape, have you ever noticed the similarly to a straight jacket?
The good news is that the 'hair growing' plan is finally coming to fruition, I was informed by the stylist, who looked rather pleased with herself like she had actually made my hair grow all by herself, that my layers are now almost history and all I have to do now is let this confounded mop grow.....ha, even less visits to the hair salon for me from this point on!
I had another plan, a lazy plan to ditch my car in the car wash while I was in town, that too was thwarted when like a useless, weak woman I couldn't detach the ariel from the roof. I normally manage it without problem but on this occasion it was stuck fast, no doubt corroded or tightened by PG. After a few attempts I decided it better to beat a hasty retreat and pretend like I didn't want to unscrew the damn thing anyways....well, I wasn't gonna ask a man was I and as none offered assistance I left still clutching my unused wash token!
The evening holds promise. Dinner should arrive home with PG, no prizes for guessing where he has spent the afternoon. The lady who caters for the golf club (who's cat incidentally is Ditto's mother) frequently makes us a real dinner, packs it up and sends it home with him. I don't think this is a usual service but as she likely sees more of PG than I do they are good friends and he gets slightly special treatment. (No jokes please!). The no-cooking meal will be followed by a stroll up the road for a one to one with the local lambs, cows and rabbits and then it's home in time of course to see who is evicted from celebrity love island.
I'm easy pleased!
Thursday, 10 February 2005
The quarterly hair horror
The dreaded three monthly hair appointment was today! Regulars will know my dislike of this necessary evil, I have blogged it on more than one occasion. I hate it, nay detest it, the faffing, the inane conversation centered around holidays and hair colour drives me demented, luke warm instant coffee and hairdresser egos are just not my thing.
Today's foray into the nightmare that is the hair salon was, it transpired, amusingly different. This establishment is for a small town, reasonably upmarket and at least boasts well qualified stylists, post 1960's decor, (unlike it's counterparts in the town, that favour the blue rinse brigade) and a comfortingly full appointment book.
A rare calm greeted me upon my arrival, only one or two clients instead of the usual melee where apparent and thankfully my regular stylist 'Fiona' was ready and waiting for me. As time has gone by she seems to have learnt of my dislike for the usual bowing and scraping afforded clients as the norm and has relaxed a little. She knows my dread of the backwash and instructed 'hair washing junior' appropriately, to only 'wash once' and 'no conditioner', thereby affording me an early escape from this neck breaking contraption.
As time passed and she snip, snipped away we chatted comfortably about all manner of subjects, we giggled and joked and all was looking well. At this point things became a little strange, we noticed suddenly that we were alone, the other staff had all 'disappeared'. Little did we know but this hair appointment was about to become like something from an episode of a poorly written soap opera.
'Go find out where they have gone' I suggested and laughing she disappeared into the back of the building, leaving me alone and half done. Returning moments later, shaking and red faced she reported there had been a disagreement of sorts and the absent staff where embroiled in an argument concerning the perpetrator of a large number of 'strange' phone calls they had been receiving of late. This argument carried on, intermittently spilling over into the front of house when one or other of these girls appeared, pretended to be working and was then summoned back by one colleague or another in hissing whispers.
Amid all of this and without warning 'young hairwashing junior' suddenly appeared in floods of tears....enough is enough was Fiona's response and amid apologies she ushered said hairwasher briskly out of sight. She returned minutes later, hairwasher had not it seemed become involved in the cat fight as suspected, instead she had just been dumped by her boyfriend of many months..........via text message..... Nice guy...... and was still wailing uncontrollably from somewhere out of sight but most certainly not out of earshot!
Professional it was not, but damned entertaining it all was. Ok, so the luke warm instant coffee was still appalling, no change there, but the conversation was improved and the entertainment was certainly more amusing than that normally provided during the dreaded salon visit!
Oh....and in the end I did get my hair cut!
Today's foray into the nightmare that is the hair salon was, it transpired, amusingly different. This establishment is for a small town, reasonably upmarket and at least boasts well qualified stylists, post 1960's decor, (unlike it's counterparts in the town, that favour the blue rinse brigade) and a comfortingly full appointment book.
A rare calm greeted me upon my arrival, only one or two clients instead of the usual melee where apparent and thankfully my regular stylist 'Fiona' was ready and waiting for me. As time has gone by she seems to have learnt of my dislike for the usual bowing and scraping afforded clients as the norm and has relaxed a little. She knows my dread of the backwash and instructed 'hair washing junior' appropriately, to only 'wash once' and 'no conditioner', thereby affording me an early escape from this neck breaking contraption.
As time passed and she snip, snipped away we chatted comfortably about all manner of subjects, we giggled and joked and all was looking well. At this point things became a little strange, we noticed suddenly that we were alone, the other staff had all 'disappeared'. Little did we know but this hair appointment was about to become like something from an episode of a poorly written soap opera.
'Go find out where they have gone' I suggested and laughing she disappeared into the back of the building, leaving me alone and half done. Returning moments later, shaking and red faced she reported there had been a disagreement of sorts and the absent staff where embroiled in an argument concerning the perpetrator of a large number of 'strange' phone calls they had been receiving of late. This argument carried on, intermittently spilling over into the front of house when one or other of these girls appeared, pretended to be working and was then summoned back by one colleague or another in hissing whispers.
Amid all of this and without warning 'young hairwashing junior' suddenly appeared in floods of tears....enough is enough was Fiona's response and amid apologies she ushered said hairwasher briskly out of sight. She returned minutes later, hairwasher had not it seemed become involved in the cat fight as suspected, instead she had just been dumped by her boyfriend of many months..........via text message..... Nice guy...... and was still wailing uncontrollably from somewhere out of sight but most certainly not out of earshot!
Professional it was not, but damned entertaining it all was. Ok, so the luke warm instant coffee was still appalling, no change there, but the conversation was improved and the entertainment was certainly more amusing than that normally provided during the dreaded salon visit!
Oh....and in the end I did get my hair cut!
Friday, 3 December 2004
A special gift
Whilst I was braving an unavoidable trip to the hairdressers yesterday morning (trim only, the growing process is still underway!)I received a call from PG telling me to hurry up home, I had a big parcel delivered from the US and he wanted to see what it was!
I forbade him from further 'investigation' until I arrived home and full of excitement prodded the hairdresser in quicker action.
Once back home I was presented with a big brown box that, at extortionate cost I might add, had flown it's way from the US to Scotland. I had kinda expected 'something' to arrive but nothing of this magnitude. I fervently unpacked it's contents to find two beautiful gifts, a CD of 'electrically modified' Christmas music and a limited edition porcelain plate depicting a Christmas scene.
The gifts where accompanied by a letter explaining that the sender has become tired of the commercialism surrounding the festive season and so was gifting me two things that were important to them, kinda like passing on the pleasure these items had already afforded themselves.
I was so touched, the ethos is wonderful and makes the gift so much more precious. There was of course no need for a gift at all, it was from someone in the blogosphere as thanks for some help I gave, I will not identify this person for fear of causing embarrassment, if they wish to identify themselves in comments then that is their choice.
However, you know who you are, I have thanked you personally but I just have to say publicly the BIGGEST THANK YOU ever to you.......the fact that anyone even thought to do such a kind and thoughtful thing for me is one of those few instances in life that has renewed my faith in human nature ............you have 'made' my Christmas!!
THANK YOU :o)
I forbade him from further 'investigation' until I arrived home and full of excitement prodded the hairdresser in quicker action.
Once back home I was presented with a big brown box that, at extortionate cost I might add, had flown it's way from the US to Scotland. I had kinda expected 'something' to arrive but nothing of this magnitude. I fervently unpacked it's contents to find two beautiful gifts, a CD of 'electrically modified' Christmas music and a limited edition porcelain plate depicting a Christmas scene.
The gifts where accompanied by a letter explaining that the sender has become tired of the commercialism surrounding the festive season and so was gifting me two things that were important to them, kinda like passing on the pleasure these items had already afforded themselves.
I was so touched, the ethos is wonderful and makes the gift so much more precious. There was of course no need for a gift at all, it was from someone in the blogosphere as thanks for some help I gave, I will not identify this person for fear of causing embarrassment, if they wish to identify themselves in comments then that is their choice.
However, you know who you are, I have thanked you personally but I just have to say publicly the BIGGEST THANK YOU ever to you.......the fact that anyone even thought to do such a kind and thoughtful thing for me is one of those few instances in life that has renewed my faith in human nature ............you have 'made' my Christmas!!
THANK YOU :o)
Monday, 22 November 2004
Contrary...moi??
As if!
A year ago I had long hair, the real deal, lots of the stuff and it drove me crazy! I have hair that has a closer affinity to a sheep's fleece than to that, of let's, say Demi Moore, not for me a sleek, straight, perfect mane sadly and if left to it's own devices I begin to bear a strong resemblance to Crystal Tipps.
Consequently much time was wasted with what the manufacturers strangely now term 'product', and with electrical devices, hair dryers, straightening irons and the like in an endeavor to look presentable. All to no avail. One hint of dampness in the air and the moment I stepped outside up it would spring again. Despite all the effort involved I persevered with it, I had not had hair of any magnitude since I was 14, I grew it when I moved North figuring no one knew me so if I looked a mess for the interim no matter.
And so it was, it took two years to grow and having finally got there, within 6 months I was fed up with all the fiddling and straightening etc. and this week last year I ventured into a local salon and had it cut off! The stylist was not happy, she feared I would regret it, I assured her I would not, after all it was only hair. Still she would not be persuaded that I really meant short, as in very short! No one she said went from long to very short in one hit......I do I insisted, "I have had short hair most of my life",I assured her "it's no big deal" cut it"!....but no, it became hilarious, the whole salon became embroiled in this decision, various stylist's telling me I would live to wish I had hair and gathering round making 'helpful' suggestions.
Those of you who are regulars here may recall that I don't have much time for the inane carryings on that seem part and parcel of any hairdressing salon, I avoid the places like the plague and finally in amusement and some frustration at this poor girls fear of retribution should she hack off my hair I snatched the scissors from their resting place on the side, pulled up a big lump of hair from the crown of my head and cut off 8 inches..."there now" I said........"you have to finish it now"! This caused some hilarity but it did the trick and an hour later, the somewhat nervous young stylist ejected me from the seat, still crowing that I would regret it and that she had never been asked to cut off so much in one go! For goodness sake.
A year on?.........bugger!........ok, ok, I admit I regret it, I will live of course, it is not one of life's major disasters. It is of course easy, it's not hot, it dries in 10 minutes instead of 2 hours, it doesn't get in the way, doesn't require copious amounts of attention and is tidy but I miss it and what it does require of course is 6 weekly treks to the bloody hairdresser and we know how I feel about that!
Thus, it is abandoned again to the birds nest stage while I re-grow it all over again....Goddamn.........another two years!
Contrary? moi?
A year ago I had long hair, the real deal, lots of the stuff and it drove me crazy! I have hair that has a closer affinity to a sheep's fleece than to that, of let's, say Demi Moore, not for me a sleek, straight, perfect mane sadly and if left to it's own devices I begin to bear a strong resemblance to Crystal Tipps.
Consequently much time was wasted with what the manufacturers strangely now term 'product', and with electrical devices, hair dryers, straightening irons and the like in an endeavor to look presentable. All to no avail. One hint of dampness in the air and the moment I stepped outside up it would spring again. Despite all the effort involved I persevered with it, I had not had hair of any magnitude since I was 14, I grew it when I moved North figuring no one knew me so if I looked a mess for the interim no matter.
And so it was, it took two years to grow and having finally got there, within 6 months I was fed up with all the fiddling and straightening etc. and this week last year I ventured into a local salon and had it cut off! The stylist was not happy, she feared I would regret it, I assured her I would not, after all it was only hair. Still she would not be persuaded that I really meant short, as in very short! No one she said went from long to very short in one hit......I do I insisted, "I have had short hair most of my life",I assured her "it's no big deal" cut it"!....but no, it became hilarious, the whole salon became embroiled in this decision, various stylist's telling me I would live to wish I had hair and gathering round making 'helpful' suggestions.
Those of you who are regulars here may recall that I don't have much time for the inane carryings on that seem part and parcel of any hairdressing salon, I avoid the places like the plague and finally in amusement and some frustration at this poor girls fear of retribution should she hack off my hair I snatched the scissors from their resting place on the side, pulled up a big lump of hair from the crown of my head and cut off 8 inches..."there now" I said........"you have to finish it now"! This caused some hilarity but it did the trick and an hour later, the somewhat nervous young stylist ejected me from the seat, still crowing that I would regret it and that she had never been asked to cut off so much in one go! For goodness sake.
A year on?.........bugger!........ok, ok, I admit I regret it, I will live of course, it is not one of life's major disasters. It is of course easy, it's not hot, it dries in 10 minutes instead of 2 hours, it doesn't get in the way, doesn't require copious amounts of attention and is tidy but I miss it and what it does require of course is 6 weekly treks to the bloody hairdresser and we know how I feel about that!
Thus, it is abandoned again to the birds nest stage while I re-grow it all over again....Goddamn.........another two years!
Contrary? moi?
Tuesday, 17 August 2004
Friday13th revisited
Not!
Having had to cancel my hair appointment last Friday, courtesy of my car behaving in a decidedly strange fashion en route, this morning I had the replacement appointment to attend. I dislike going to the hairdressers with a vengeance at the best of times, inane conversation, poor coffee and the delights of a 'back wash' do not endear this necessary procedure to me but my current coiffeuse resembling a birds nest dictated that it couldn't be avoided, so off I went on my journey.
The instant I put my foot on the accelerator I just knew it........the same bloody car problem was distinctly apparent, only one cylinder showing any motivation to fire whatsoever and that not very impressively! Arghhhhhhh.
I'm sorry but patience just isn't my forte and had I wanted a car that required weekly mechanical attention I would have bought a beautiful classic, saved myself the cost of road tax and at least enjoyed envious glances from passers by. This car, a standard uninteresting model was purchased for reliability. For me cars such as this are supposed to start first time, propel me to my destination with reasonable efficiency and not bugger about only two months or so out of warranty!
I decided on this occasion I was not going to miss yet another appointment. It didn't catch fire last time despite the delightful burning aroma it gave off, so presumably it wasn't going to this time and thus I coaxed this ailing heap of junk the remainder of the journey, whilst I called the dealer again (yes hands free) and had more protracted conversation with the same very nice man who tried to fix it a few days ago.
So the upshot is they can't take it until next Monday (deep happiness), requiring me to drive to work at the weekend at a snails pace, (I'm assured it can do no more damage!) they don't have a courtesy car available for me and this time we are talking serious sums of money!
This car may well find itself abandoned in part exchange where the dealer can suffer the cost himself....can I afford it? No but like I said patience isn't my forte!
I'm not a happy blogger.... but I did at least return my barnet to some degree of order and the aggravation involved in making it to the appointment at all, distracted me from the inane conversation and expected dire cup of coffee.
Friday, 13 August 2004
Friday 13th
Tropical Lagoon © V.K.Tylor
Having woken yet again to torrential rain, wind and fog and trying to remember what summer should be like I decided a quick reminder was in order, something for us to gaze at momentarily as we recall there is somewhere a sun blazing in a blue sky! Doubtless I will have contravened some copyright in providing you with this visual delight but having tried to decipher the legalities and this not being a commercial venture I think I'm safe, hopefully the owner will see it as flattery and social responsibility for the mental wellbeing of us washed out Brits!
Did it rain on St.Swithins day? I don't remember but I think there must be no real question. Our little bit of Scotland is now saturated.I don't know what the statistics tell us but for me this must be the wettest dingiest summer in my lifetime, not so much as one unbroken day of sunshine thus far!
So what of my wet Friday 13th.....nothing stunning, I have to go on another hunt for PG's birthday present, time is running out and I have an appointment at the hairdressers, perhaps not my best move on today's date. Should anything 'untoward' occur in the area of styling I make a vow to publish and cause some hilarity!
The weekend draws nigh, which of course means work for me but I won't moan and grumble this week(much) that's life. We have a party to attend tomorrow evening and it's the birthday on Sunday so there will be plenty of distractions from the mundanities.
Best I get some sleep tonight, having had only 7 hours in the last 48 my 'party animal' status is in distinct danger of failing me dismally!
Tuesday, 10 August 2004
Just another day
Berwick. © M. Robertson
Another whole day of absolutely nothing I have to do ahead of me....heaven!
It's PG's birthday this coming weekend so I may venture into town in an attempt to find an inspired gift this afternoon, though I have the distinct feeling I will have to trek into Edinburgh or Newcastle later on in the week.
Our closest town is Berwick upon Tweed, a beautiful historic place for those visiting on holiday but slightly less than perfect for day to day necessities and at this time of year overflowing with tourists, who currently have my sympathy. It seems to have rained almost constantly here this summer and not just light 'civilised' rain, torrential, serious rain, day in and day out. Even for those with the British spirit of adventure where weather is concerned it has been dismal, the place has been shrouded in sea mist for the main part and what are usually beautiful panoramic views have been completely hidden!
I have seen any number of intrepid visitors this season, wandering around the various 'places of interest', with wet and bedraggled children who really want only to be playing on the beach and in the sea, if they could see where it is for the fog! It's such a shame to have saved and looked forward to their holiday for however long only, to have it washed out as it has been this summer. This is a beautiful country and I normally wonder what makes so many rush off to Spain and the like so readily.... this year I can understand it!
But I digress, it's off on a birthday present hunt for me today, perhaps brave the hairdressers before something nests in my head and pick up one or two other bits and pieces we need, including yet another new collar for Ditto, who manages to destroy hers on an almost weekly basis. I have no idea what she subjects it too but it is always in a serious state of disrepair.....I must get her chipped!
Thursday, 24 June 2004
Purgatory
It stopped raining at last.........somewhere between the hairdressers and Safeway, I didn't actually notice the event until it was over!
I was forced today, by the imminent threat of nothing edible left in the fridge, to brave Safeways, well actually it's Morrisons now but that only makes matters worse. No Tesco or Sainsburys here, the nearest of either is 60 miles and even the horror that is Safeway won't persuade me that far for a few apples etc.
So I trundled, herd like around the isles, trying to dream up some culinary delights with the usual lack of enthusiasm and people ramming their wayward trolleys into my legs. Why are supermarket isles used as meeting places where all and sundry can gossip over the latest news, greet long lost friends and pass the time of day whilst causing a 'people jam', that the offenders are completely oblivious to??
This delight was preceded by another one of my favorites......the hairdressers! Women I know, are supposed to enjoy all the pampering etc. Me? I just want my hair cut ..... no chance! They have you trapped.
So having almost rendered me unconscious at the delight that is a 'back wash' and ushered me, on a slippery floor, without my glasses and looking less than glamorous in a gown and towel to my seat, I am presented with the obligatory luke warm cup of something pertaining to be coffee. At this point I am asked what I would like doing........er, my hair cut maybe?
'How would you like it today madam?
'you're the hairdresser isn't it your job to sort that bit?
'You know what would suit you madam, highlights, just one or two colours,
'Would they now, well thank you but that requires even longer in here'
Have you ever thought of nail extensions madam'?
'No.......If I want long finger nails I'll grow them'
and on it goes.
'Have you done anything exciting recently'
'No, I live in a field'
'Are you going somewhere nice for your holidays'
'Yes, but not somewhere hot where I can acquire a tan, so no, I don't need your sun shower either'
Goddamn it woman...... Will you just CUT MY HAIR and let me back out looking moderately presentable!!!
I was forced today, by the imminent threat of nothing edible left in the fridge, to brave Safeways, well actually it's Morrisons now but that only makes matters worse. No Tesco or Sainsburys here, the nearest of either is 60 miles and even the horror that is Safeway won't persuade me that far for a few apples etc.
So I trundled, herd like around the isles, trying to dream up some culinary delights with the usual lack of enthusiasm and people ramming their wayward trolleys into my legs. Why are supermarket isles used as meeting places where all and sundry can gossip over the latest news, greet long lost friends and pass the time of day whilst causing a 'people jam', that the offenders are completely oblivious to??
This delight was preceded by another one of my favorites......the hairdressers! Women I know, are supposed to enjoy all the pampering etc. Me? I just want my hair cut ..... no chance! They have you trapped.
So having almost rendered me unconscious at the delight that is a 'back wash' and ushered me, on a slippery floor, without my glasses and looking less than glamorous in a gown and towel to my seat, I am presented with the obligatory luke warm cup of something pertaining to be coffee. At this point I am asked what I would like doing........er, my hair cut maybe?
'How would you like it today madam?
'you're the hairdresser isn't it your job to sort that bit?
'You know what would suit you madam, highlights, just one or two colours,
'Would they now, well thank you but that requires even longer in here'
Have you ever thought of nail extensions madam'?
'No.......If I want long finger nails I'll grow them'
and on it goes.
'Have you done anything exciting recently'
'No, I live in a field'
'Are you going somewhere nice for your holidays'
'Yes, but not somewhere hot where I can acquire a tan, so no, I don't need your sun shower either'
Goddamn it woman...... Will you just CUT MY HAIR and let me back out looking moderately presentable!!!
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