Splodgeness Abounds

The shops in Banbury seem to be much better than those in Leamington Spa. The branch of Hawkshead generally has more stock, and the Body Shop actually had the henna kits I'd been looking for! It took me quite a while to approach the display, so I got very suspicious looks from the staff. To understand my nervousness you should know that I was brought up by a family with the attitude that only painted harlots colour their hair. So what I was contemplating was hugely rebellious. Sad but true.

I ummed and erred over the choice of shades. Ravishing red? Jaunty ginger? Passionate purple? Psychotic scarlet?* I'm not very good at decisions, so I selected the pack in the middle.

This henna requires mixing with boiling water and smearing onto dry hair, and is very strange stuff. It looks like a pat from a cow that's been overfed with concentrates, all greeny-brown and splodgy. And it smells vile, just like a stinky old ashtray. However I donned the weird plastic gloves, splurged it onto my hair, put on the plastic cap, wrapped a towel round my head turban-wise and prepared to wait several hours. (I have problems with headgear. I don't hear very well in one ear, having been too close to a mortar at Brentford in 1979 or thereabouts, and hats seem to make it worse. With the towel on my head I found I could only hear with my mouth open.) All seemed well for an hour or so. Then the tingling started. After two hours my whole scalp felt as though someone was sticking pins into it, and I took this as a my cue to rinse. Before all my hair fell out.

It isn't the colour I'd hoped for. As resounding successes go, this wasn't one of them. I think this will be my one and only venture into the realms of strumpetness.

*Names may not be accurate.

Oh dear. I have just realised that Clover's Thursday vet appointment was actually today. The senior moments are becoming more and more frequent.