Life for Lola

I feel a bit bad. There was a message on the answer machine from a lass who wanted to do a hairdressing course at the college. We often get these messages and phone calls because people don't put the area code in before calling. I listened as she said 'can you call me back to confirm a place, blah, blah' I deleted the message.

It struck me this morning that this naughty blunder of mine might affect the rest of this persons life. By me not taking the time to call her back and explain her mistake I might be responsible for her not learning to be a hairdresser. Instead of her learning the ways of the cut and blow dry, she may give up and take a job in a bookies. She may rub shoulders with the wrong kind of people. Fall in love with a cheeky rogue who promises to 'treat her right' only a few years down the line this all goes by the by when the 2.45 at Cheltenham doesn't pan out as planned.

She may be beaten but stays with him because she loves him and she's used to the luxury of his occasional wealth, thrilled herself by the excitement of the dog track and all the attractions it brings. She may end up addicted to trannies which help her sleep and to steady her nerves. Living in the flat above the bookies opposite a hair salon which, if the BBC's Cutting It is anything to go by, she could have ended up owning. All because of me.