This is a brief post especially for Miss Peevish who, when I stated that I used to have hair like my dandelion picture at the top during the 1980s, demanded photographic proof.
So, after crawling under desks on my hands and knees to retrieve some dust-encrusted ancient photograph albums, I give you pictures of my impression of Snoopy's little friend, Woodstock!
The 'arty' black and white photos were taken in 1982 for the preposterously-named Andre Bernard Hair International salon in Tunsgate, Guildford - I used to do hair modelling, mainly because I loved showing-off ("you don't say?" I hear you cry in stunned disbelief - but, yes, I'm afraid so, people...) and I was willing to sit there, literally for hours, while my scalp was burnt into blisters in order to slake my desire for snow-white hair, and the hairdressers loved it so they'd get me to be their model at hairdressing competitions in that London. Plus being a singer in a band at the time meant I had a 'stage' wardrobe and the competitions gave me another excuse to wear diamante and stilettos. And elbow length gloves. And silver Victorian belts. And black corseted prom dresses with purple spots. You know, the usual sort of 80s attire.
This all worked well until, one night at the Grosvenor House Hotel, in the midst of the competiton, my hairdresser got nervous and knicked with his scissors a mole I used to have on the back of my head (I've had it removed now), and it bled. And bled. And bled. And, of course, having whiter-than-white hair, it showed up as pink streaks. Poor Martin managed to stop panicking enough to get some cotton wool and a bowl of water to wash the blood out. He obviously did a good job because we won! Look how ecstatic we are in the winner's photograph:
In everyday life, though, I looked more like this:
There's the very faintest tint of pink left at the edges - the very tips were originally scarlet red but had faded by the time the picture was taken.
I loved having bleached white hair but the upkeep was horrendous - even so, since then, I've grown it out and redone it from scratch at least 4 times. Now, of course, I'm currently purple-ish (although it's more "Eastern European Hooker" than I would like) but am so grey that I'm considering letting all the colour grow out so I can see what I actually look like - and then run screaming for the dye bottle again!
Sexy, glamorous, slim. Inclined to exaggerate. All my own hair and most of my own teeth. Able to break equipment in a single bound. Not shy of a bottle of wine or three. Am happily married to The Lovely Husband (TLH) and was owned by two cats called Sylvester Bean (who crossed the Rainbow Bridge on 27 December 2013) and Pepper Bean (who went over first on 2 November 2010). UPDATE: As of November 2014, we became the new minions of Puffle Segar and Maggie Segar who voluntarily moved out of their original home (due to the introduction of unrelated kittens) so we took them in. After saying we didn't want any more cats. Like you do. They obviously sensed there was a cat vacuum in our house and moved in to fill it, furry little buggers.
I wish I was better at everything I do.