Life-changing hair

The difference between male/female attitudes to hairstyles is vast. Women will spend inexcusable sums of money and are deeply concerned with the final result (last time I got my hair cut I spent the evening at a friend's house in Acton crying and drinking wine to blot out how much I hated it). Men tend just to have the same haircut but shorter.

Last year I had hair extensions - although it took two people more than five hours to put in and cost me more than my first car* did, I loved them. Now that I have better** things to spend my money on (such as a mortgage, and if the insurance doesn't cough up soon, a new car) I can't justify the spend and so it was with glee that I found someone who lived and worked in Chiswick as a hairdresser specialising in just that area - and she was so much cheaper it would have been rude not to have taken her up on the offer. She worked for a reputable hairdresser chain - and said if I wasn't happy she would give me a refund.

So, I went down the hair extension route (no pun intended), which was somewhat different - it only took the one girl an hour and half and I don't remember the smell of burning hair / glue when I had them done before.

Final result: I would do better with a handfull of dog hair and a few jars of Copydex. She said it was okay and although she was away for a few days we could sort it out 'when she got back'.

She never did - the hairdresser-from-hell has skipped the country. No-one (including her employers) know where she is.

So, I got what I wanted and had a hairstyle that changed my life - I have spent evenings pulling lumps of hair out, washed my hair in almost boiiling water to melt the glue (doesn't work) and had people point at my hair saying things like 'oh, you've got something stuck there' (one person asked me if it was chewing gum).

So yesterday I had to take the plunge and get them cut off. It's just nice to have a night's sleep without the lumps of glue. A lesson learnt about cheap deals though.

* Mini metro. Metallic blue. 400 quid. Had never gone above 25mph or further than the church in the village before I owned it (bought it off Mrs Harris, an elderly church goer who lived next door to my parents)

** I use that word in the loosest sense