So it’s nine o’clock on a Saturday morning.

I feel runover.

Not from excessive partying… We went out to the new state theatre last night and a civilised affair it was too.

And even though yes, I did indulge in a mojito in the late afternoon with Ali… She of the sculpture, I stopped at one.

(In fact we walked out without paying… Realised on the train going to Northbridge… Rang and apologised… Because hey, the guy made a great cocktail and we want to go back again.   Havana has become our regular. He was very nice about it btw.)

So, not feeling tired because of the cocktail…

I hate having my hair done when I look crap.

Hours of staring in the mirror looking at the bags under my eyes.

At least they serve decent coffee.

It is the western suburbs darling.

Sitting next to me is a rather dishy fellow. Whose conversation I eavesdrop on while I’m waiting for the dye to process.

Very cute.

Shame I’m not looking my best.

He has a lovely deep voice which is hard to hear over the hair dryers.

He makes eye contact with me as we listen to our cute blonde stylist chatting.  Yes we share a stylist. He is getting his hair cut while my hair dye does it’s funky wild grey covering thing.

He is very cute actually.

Business has something to do with South Africa.

Ah well.

Do you read the magazines at the hairdressers?

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Today’s selection is Madison and Vogue.

I don’t bother opening them.

The stylist goes to get the clippers and he says… Must be boring waiting…

Yes.

He has a cute smile and knows it.

We chat for about two minutes as she tidies up his sideburns and then he takes off his gown and goes.

Hmmm tats.

But looking pretty pumped in his thin white tee.

…

Not my type.

Ah time for the hair wash.

My favourite bit is when they massage your scalp.

Niiiiice.

Cutting time.

The worst bit is after she dries it off she chops into it to thin it out a bit. Apparently I have very thick hair.

Ouch ouch ouch.

Still at least that means it’s nearly over for another six weeks.

So  what’s left for the day… Grocery shopping, dress sale, and the writers festival.

And that’s enough to be getting on with.