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I had my hair cut today at a hairdressers I’ve only been to a couple of times.

It started in the usual way, ‘How long is it since you last had your hair cut, Madame Corby?’  Holding up of one tress and examining the ends.

‘Four months.’

‘You should have your hair cut more often.’  Shaking of head over state of hair.

‘I know, but I keep forgetting to make the appointment.’

That is not a proper excuse.  (Not said out loud but hanging palpably in the air.)

It is considering what they charge to trim a shoulder length bob.

I was spared ‘Who did you let cut your hair last time?’ She probably remembered just in time she’d done it herself.

We then move on to the inadequacies of my shampoo which apparently leaves a residue on my scalp (only at the back strangely enough where I can’t see) and how I should have a special shampoo from the salon which costs about as much as the weekly shop.  Of course I ought to have the matching conditioner to go with it as well.

At last my hair was cut, blown dry, polished and the cut hair was being swept off.  The owner of the salon passed by, ‘Do you colour your hair yourself, Madame Corby?’

‘Yes, with henna.’  I braced myself.

‘It’s very pretty.’ 

I nearly fell off my chair.

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