Oranges & Lemons


Name that Tune: “Yellow is the color of my true love’s hair in the morning, when we rise” – Yellow is the Colour, Donovan  

Movie Quote of the Day: “I have always respected redheads as members of a hair color minority.” – Legally Blond 2  

The M-i-L received an Azalea Bush in a pot today, delivered personally by the owner of the local Florist whose website it was I ordered the original one from. She had been so incensed at Interflora’s balls-up that she sourced one herself and drove it round on a Sunday. M-i-L now very happy. Interflora now having another irate women hounding their complaints department (M-i-L already rang them herself yesterday to give them what for). Now they have an angry florist joining the queue to put her two-penneth in – the gypsophilia is gonna hit the fan my friend!  

I’ve spoken to them and emailed but I think I’ll do a good old fashioned letter too, just for the hell of it and perhaps my Pops can add it to the appendix of his book of Henry Roots type letters, if he ever gets his back catalogue of:- “Dear Sir, with reference to…“ personal missives of complaint published.  


 So, it’s been at least a fortnight since I mentioned my barnet. It’s about time for an update on the quest to get rid of the redhead. Last night I decided to live on the edge and go for the Pre-Lighten again.  Well aware that it was, in all likelihood going to turn into a Tangerine Dream Nightmare but, in the mood to say F*ck It! I went ahead, secure in the knowledge that with it being a Bank Holiday Weekend, I would have a days grace to rectify any follicle faux-pas.  

Although it wasn’t quite as successful an enterprise as I had hoped, I didn’t think it was totally unfortunate until Bman came home from work and asked me what I had been doing? I explained I had pre-lightened and would have to wait a while before I could put another colour on it to calm it down.  

“There’s nothing I can put on it for a while yet” says I.  

“Well you could start with a Tam o’ Shanter” says He.  

“I can live with it for a week or so” says me. “ 

Meanwhile I have to live with Russ Abbott” says my ever so hilarious husband.  

You really are a funny guy!

It’s really not that bad. I see it as more of a Doctor Zaius from Planet of the Apes myself.  


I’ll say one thing for my husband, he does have an extensive collection of hats, so if Plan C tomorrow goes belly-up I may have to start a new trend in novelty headgear at work on Tuesday. Decisions decisions:- Fez, Tweedledum propeller cap or balaclava?  


It’s a tough call.  

Alternatively I could just fashion my hair into a telephone receiver shape and claim that it’s Lady GaGa week.  

What? I'm getting down with the kids man!


I’m astounded I haven’t yet ended up as a story in ‘Take a Shite’ magazine or similar with the tagline  “I almost died for a dyejob”  and a picture of me on life support with my face swollen up like a zeppelin and skin peeling off in sheets.  [If this does now actually happen, I will post photos on here as soon as I regain my gross and fine motor skills when my fingers return to their usual size and we’ll all have a good old laugh about it.]

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