I'm Back! Again.

Sorry for the unseemly delay but I'm back now, and there'll be no stopping me!

I've simply been so busy with work, family and the rigours of Facebook and Twitter (urgh!), that I've not had time for this blog.  Congratulations to all of you who have held it together all these months, your therapists have updated me repeatedly on your progress, and are confident of a full recovery now that I'm back.  I promise to not wander off like that again without full and complete notification.

Not much has changed since I've been away. Maleficent continues to breathe - dammit - and also continues to be a hooning great pain in the arse, Olga is still magnificent but I don't get to see or speak to her nearly enough, whilst Keith and the kids are still married and/or related to me, which is as much as can ever be expected.

Our neighbours however have been renamed (from Shagette and Igor) to Forehead and Peanut, simply because of their very odd shaped heads, and because she doesn't get the shaggings she used to - boo hoo - more sleep for me! I've been reliably informed (via the For Sale sign outside) that Forehead and Peanut are moving house soon. This fills me with joy and terror all at the same time. Watch this space to find out what species of pond life we get as neighbours this time. The fact that I saw David Attenborough setting up cameras in the front garden does not bode well I feel.

I have absolutely LOADS to rant about, so do keep up and be sure to visit back again very soon - I could literally go off at any time.  I have set up a blog for work recently and have to positive, cheerful, proactive, dynamic and friendly - you know, all the things that come so easily to me [cough].  This blog however is going to be where I vent my spleen, where - because I'm annonymous - I can say what I like about who I like - woo hoo! 

Stand well back coz' here I cum, come.

Bemoaning Untalented Hair Washers

Goddammit I've been boiling about this for months now, and I've decided to vent my spleen about it.  I had my hair cut last night. It was at least a week overdue - I was tripping over small children and having to wring my fringe out after drinking a cup of tea it was so overdue, so I was really looking forward to being shorn. But I never know what I'm gonna get...

Sometimes I'm lucky and I'm allocated a little trainee - complete with a tattoo and nose ring of course - who sidles up to me and inspires no confidence whatsoever - but man can she massage a scalp! After a day of looking after one business, one husband, one house, the laundry, the shopping, two children, one set of homework, umpteen pishy pooey nappies, three lunches for tomorrow and general housework, I tend to look forward to a good head massage - it's the only sleep I get these days!

But no! Last night was not to be, and it hasn't been for a while now - I got Laura. Laura The Destroyer. Oh my poor scalp. I've encountered Laura before, and my heart sank and my neck vertebra quivered when I saw who was on duty, and for good reason. As I sat back against the basin I silently wished my hair follicles a fond farewell - not such a fond farewell for the grey up risers amongst them - but you get the picture! And off she went, scrubbing my head for all she was worth. What the hell was she trying to achieve? Carry on like that for long there'll be nothing left to cut woman. It was simply beyond invigorating and relaxing was a proposition too far! And then came the "massage", which on Planet Laura involves pressing down so hard on her finger tips that she actually pushes my fully grown adult head into my neck - I was being pushed off the seat at one point and had to hold on to the arm rests for fear of scooting across the floor. Her biceps were bulging and sweat was pouring from her forehead, but on and on she "massaged" - she was relentless. All I kept thinking about was the £38 I'd recently spent on an osteopath to realign my cranium, and how I may as well have just given the money to Laura so she'd stop! This went on for two shampoos and a slavering of conditioner - oh how the hours ticked by like days. But it ended eventually and I was released into the stylist's chair - the same stylist who I believe to be surreptitiously growing my hair - she denies this, but I know this to be true.

Like so much in life, Laura must learn that power is nothing with control.