Category Archives: Daily Life

Just chop it all off…

In my continuing quest to ‘try new things’, I decided to chop most of my hair off yesterday. I usually steer clear of hair salons as much as possible because:

  1. * I’m a whole generation older than most of the clients, grrr
  2. * I’m not ready for a bubble perm and tint just yet
  3. * I never, ever get the cut I ask for

Yet I was feeling strangely optimistic and full of hope as I tried a new hairdressers. I figured that if they could fit me in straight away, it was meant to be. And they could. I was given a look book, a strong coffee and the latest copy of Vogue. A child (it seemed) sashayed over and picked up my locks, tutted, exchanged glances with the child next to her and just about managed not to roll her eyes. I know, I know, I have let my whole hair-care regime lapse into grunge since being diagnosed with MS. It’s not been that high up on my list of priorities, but that’s all about to change…

The child, who turned out to be a mother-of-two, asked me what look I was aiming for and we discussed a few ideas. I like Keira Knightley’s style in that perfume advert, but then I like a lot of things that are just not going to happen. I was kitted out with a cape, plastic shoulder mat and towel and led over to the sink where my hair was washed, conditioned, massaged and pummelled into submission. Meekly, I followed her back to the chair and read a magazine until she was finished. Couldn’t look. Finally, I had to. Hmm. Ok. It’s kind of short. Oh, that’s a lot of hair on the floor. But I actually like it. It’s swishy!

I paid up and bounced out of the salon, pretending I was attracting admiring glances as I walked back to the car. Back home, I did what every woman does after the hairdressers and raced to the biggest mirror I could find, turning this way and that, mussing it up, mentally working out if I could live with it. I think I can, although my neck’s a bit cold. And I sure don’t look like Keira Knightley.

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I kid you not

MS has made me more adventurous and given me a desire to ‘try new things’. I’m not sure why, perhaps a case of, what have I got to lose? I have an ongoing list of new things to try, more often added to than attempted. Yesterday, I set out to change this. Every weekend I buy a small child’s height of newspapers and every weekend I read the recipe pages, scanning through the ingredients, the cooking methods, the time taken, think, ‘hmm, that sounds nice’ and quickly turn the page, berating myself for not exposing The Teenager to more exotic food. But yesterday, I promised myself that I would try out the first recipe I came across. Perhaps I should have read The Mail on Saturday first (Jamie’s 15 minute meals – desserts this week, darn it), but I picked up The Guardian as I always turn to the ‘Blind Date’ article – living vicariously.

The divine Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall is leaning casually against his Aga, pots hanging from a driftwood rack behind him. He asks, ‘why don’t we eat more goat?’ Oh. Um, because the local Co-op doesn’t stock it? But in the spirit of adventure, I read on. Perhaps Waitrose have it. Or that obscure butcher I always mean to visit (another tick on ‘try new things’ list!). First ingredient is hay. This is not going well. Helpfully though, Hugh suggests that if I don’t know a farmer, I can always buy small packs of it from a pet shop. Ok, quick visit to Pets At Home too, then.

So, assuming I have my goat and my hay, the next thing I have to do is to soak the hay in a bucket, then drain. I don’t have a bucket, long story. Quick trip to the hardware store too then, Hugh? Nope. Take the goat, the hay and the bucket off my shopping list, scribble down chops, potatoes and veg. Maybe try again next week, but for now, reading the recipe was adventurous enough for me.

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