Thursday, 29 September 2011

Why hello, 'Bob'.

Ah, what's a Thursday morning without an 80s sitcom reference? A reference which to this day makes it hard to say, or indeed write, the name of a certain haircut without a chuckle.

I am on the horns of a dilemma. Those of you who know me off here, know I have long red hair - but this is actually a recent development, borne of my desire to have a Chinese knot bun at my wedding. However, I am not a naturally long-hair person; my hair is fine and tricky to style, naturally brittle (made even worse with the red dye), I suffered from Trich when I was younger and my hair roots are weak, and I still pull absentmindedly in traffic to this day (something much easier to do on long hair) - and then I dry out my hair trying to curl, blow or product some life into the straggly mess! Not to mention the laziness factor. I had a bob for almost 15 years; I can get it straight, flicked, curled under or bouffey in 10 minutes flat. Long hair means more washing, treating, rolling, straightening- bleh. I'll spend time on my nails - my hair, nah.

So I am strongly considering a nice, chin length cut. What do people think? Shall I go for the chop?


From My New Hair

Tuesday, 20 September 2011

The Perditabet

I got this idea from The Nearsighted Owl but cannot bring myself to call it 'the A-Z of me' because it's supposed to rhyme and, being from London, I say 'zed' so it wouldn't.

Me. Being lairy at my own wedding.
Check out the size of that Church, Middleton
has nothing on me.
I hope these factets will amuse you... I've put some photos in. Mainly of me. I have a folder called 'photos of me' on my PC, this is purely for blogging purposes - in fact I don't know why it was there for, like, years before I started blogging. I must be psychic in some way.

Tuesday, 13 September 2011

Back With A Vengeance

Hello, I'm back in your blog roll, clogging it up with my stuff and nonsense.

I wish I could say I've not blogged for almost a month because I was on a small Greek island, partying it up in a hippified manner with candles and acoustic guitars and Mythos beer. But that would be last year (I went with my mum, for those of you wondering if they make swimming trunks in tweed; His Lordship's beach holiday form is poor - in the main chuntering about the newspaper being two days old, wanting to go to the old town then complaining about the steps/lack of black cabs).

This year, I went here. Permanently: