Spontaneity is a dangerous thing

Walking past a hairdressers last night I read the sandwich board outside. "Walk ins available, no appointment necessary". I was overwhelmed by the urge to go in. I was welcomed by a gaggle of hairdressers at a reception desk - straightened, bleached, asymmetric, belts with scissors & combs, pancake makeup and leggings. Told to wait. Clear plastic chairs and old magazines. A smoking hive of activity going on beyond the desk (smoking form from hair dye being applied to an asymmetrical severe fringe). My hairdresser finally came to fetch me with upbeat bubbling enthusiasm. Before I had a chance to think I had agreed to lots off the back, keeping length on the front with layers.

An hour later I left with a very-short-at-the-back and strangely long at the front haircut. Two ringlets coming down either side of my ears (my hair curls more vigorously when shorter) not dissimilar to the Hasidim Jewish boys in Stamford Hill. Its sort of a curly version of an angular bob. Modern, perhaps. Bit silly, definitely.

Woke up this morning unsure of why I did it. Struggling to adjust. At least hair grows.