Thanks very much, Cheryl, for the plaudits at Christmastime. I was not ignoring your kind remarks but finding a way to respond which either completely ignored my new hairdo or pretended I was fine with it.
Four days before Christmas I woke up with the urge to have hair a bit like Stockard Channing in Grease (above). There are worse things I could do.
Instead of leaving this little fantasy firmly on the inside of my head where it belonged and due to the proximity of our local hairdresser (downstairs) I was convinced what I needed was a perm. I’d never been to the place before but I’d seen lots of old ladies going in and having perms – they must know what they’re doing, mustn’t they?
The answer is they do. They know how to do old-lady-perms. The stylist did ask me if I’d considered a colour – but the thought of a blue or pink rinse was just a bridge too far. I wanted to look like Stockard Channing for f***s sake, not Frenchy in her Pink Lady phase. I was quite pleased with it until I got home, which given it is only upstairs is not long.
I persevered with it and went into town looking like Deirdre Barlow’s 20:20 vision sister. By Christmas Day I was absolutely in hate with it but fairly circumspect: what could I do? I cooked and served Christmas dinner looking like the leader of the hair bear bunch and struggled like a gladiator to get my Christmas Cracker hat over the frizz. It perched improbably on the top and just enhanced the effect perfectly.
Now, most of the time, it behaves itself fairly well. And a lot of the time I even quite like it – I would caution anyone with somewhat blurred and fond remembrances not to try it at home though – a place in fashion history is what it deserves not a place in modern life.