Hairwash day

And so it came to pass that it became the time of the Great Hair Wash. Not for all the many long months had this task been done. Inclement weather, loss of hairdryer (packed somewhere but know not where), and general lack of interest had put off this grand event.

But hang on a minute. That's not true about lack of interest. I WAS interested, only events kept conspiring against me. Like, boiling up several kettles of hot water was just not do-able when it came to hairwash time. It took too long. And anyway, I had read somewhere that if left long enough then one's hair would self clean. Well I did, and it didn't. But it looked OK, because I have had it up in a bun. But on catching sight of myself the other day, I was brought up short by the 'granniesh' look I seemed to have acquired. Now I know I AM a granny. But that does not mean to say I want to necessarily look like one. But then I don't want to do a 'mutton dressed as lamb' look either. Neither do I want to plaster myself in lipstick and filling.

So I have come to the conclusion, that Bohemian is good. Sort of ruffled. This was discussed before our move to France with Denise over at Much Marlarkey Manor, who also thought she could do Bohemian if I remember rightly. So what I do is, put hair in bun, but then ruffle it all up again so it looks like it hasn't been combed. Then I pull down some hair out of the bun again, so a little bit of it hangs either side of my face. When I get round to it I am going to make some dangly earings, which I think will look quite granny-bohemian. For the moment, my compromise towards this look is a scarf left floating rakishly round my neck.

It is an infernal nuisance really, as it dangles in all the food I cook and eat, and is involved in all my activities one way or another. Ah, but when I throw it round my neck, so it becomes artfully draped by default rather than be design, I feel me. You can see it hanging to one side of me in the photo.

The wetness of me is due to me trying to take a photo of me whilst applying shampoo and holding the shower head which kept spurting water all over the place. I seemed to be out of practice with shower heads. It has been a while.

So the day of the hairwash came. We now have a shower, which I haven't had the bottle to use yet but Lester uses frequently, and it was his inspiration that led to the Grand Event of the Hair Wash. When I was bewailing the fact that I couldn't wash my hair, he said 'I'll go heat the boiler up for the shower. You can use that'. It has only taken me three months to realise a solution to my hair wash problem. Sometimes I think I am a bit thick.

But yippeee! Hair done. All nice and clean. Sun was shining so it dried quickly, and I feel clean-granny-bohemian rather than camping-granny-bohemian, the flannel still working well for the washing of other places. All I need to do now is go sort out my ear-ring making equipment, and I shall be able to do Holay, Holay, Holay with our Spanish roofers. As you can see, I have not quite adjusted to them not being of the nationality that I thought they were.

I'll speak about the rotovator tomorrow.