Life for Lola

As I write this the ladyfriend is having her hair set. She is trying a new Salon as the other one keeps hiking up the rates. I feel for her, if there is one thing I dislike it's having my hair done by a stranger. I'm happy to have my hair chopped by Pedro for ten quid and will always turn up at his barber shop as long as I can get a zimmer frame through the door. He doesn't do a colour though, which is what the ladyfriend at her time of life requires.

Looking at the clock now, I can imagine she is in the hands of a demonic hair washer, having her neck and spine twisted, scalp scalded and confidence torn to shreds. Poor lass. To quote Morrissey's Hairdresser on Fire toon: "I sense the power,Within the fingers, Within an hour the power,Could totally destroy me,
(or, it could save my life)

As regards the snow, I'm pretty ticked off that all we have had is a gentle powdering and the rest of the country has had a deluge. It's almost as though we are the kitchen work top where a Victoria Sandwhich cake has had icing sugar sieved on to it. Only the cake has been removed, leaving us with the gentle excess of the housewife's shake.