Permgate

I finally succumbed to the excitement of rollers and had a perm. Grey and blue rollers tightly fixed in my hair made me feel (and probably look) like a member of the blue rinse brigade, but I kept my head buried in a book until it was thrust almost off my shoulders when bending backwards over the back-wash, in order to have it rinsed. It's not the most comfortable of experiences but we women do put ourselves through these rigorous activities to at least look half decent. I got a little worried at one point when my regular hairdresser didn't feel confident putting rollers in. He shouted over his colleague who wasn't sure which colours to use, and she shouted over the manageress who confirmed the right rollers, had a play with my hair and commented on how fine it is. I commend them on not just hoping for the best, but staying with me through the whole ordeal, checking when necessary, contemplating leaving the rollers in another five minutes, before taking my money and seeing me on my way. They did a good job. Though my first reaction did resemble shock. It's been a long time since I've had a perm and did, funnily enough, get used to my straight and very limp hair. To see myself looking like my head had been stuck in a live socket was really quite strange. I wasn't happy with the way they dried my fringe, so, in true female fashion, I've redone those few strands since arriving home. But here I am, all permed and curly. And feeling ten years younger. I said 'feeling', not 'looking'. Stop laughing at the back.

Ooops! Wrong picture...