Blow Dry

Friday 4th February

Day 289

I don’t want to use the car unless I have to. No war on, but ‘Is your journey really necessary?’ seems a good question now in the light of new budgeting. So I walk into town and feel rain brooding in the wind. It bruises my face, tears at the buttons of my coat and gusts up dead leaves and litter, thrusting them against my legs. It’s a relief to arrive in the scented stillness of the hairdresser’s. Leaning my head back into the basin, I close my eyes and as the young girl behind me streams hot water through my hair, I feel the jangling tension slowly subsiding inside my body.

I find myself chattering to my hairdresser, thinking of things to say, when I’d rather be quiet. I ask her not to cut too much off.

When I open the front door I’m greeted by the smell of this morning’s cooking - fried onions and sweet peppers. I run upstairs to say hello to my husband. He swivels round in his office chair and looks at my haircut.

‘You don’t look any different, ‘ he says. It’s a good job he doesn’t know what it cost then.