Breathless Miss Pennymoney

On Friday I had my hair cut. I hadn't set foot in the salon for an eternity and I was feeling rather disheveled. I began to worry I was starting to look like Susan Doyle. My industrial-strength Frizz Ease was about as effective as Stevie Wonder's sunglasses.

I slumped shamefully into the sleek leather chair whilst my cliche-camp hairdresser shrilled

'It's been 4 months to the very day since your last appointment Miss Underscore! Shame on you!'

He was wearing terribly short shorts and a t-shirt emblazoned with sparkles.

We have a comforting little routine we follow at every appointment. Despite the 4 month absence he had not forgotten his opening line. As usual he delivered it whilst swirling the gown around me, like an effete yet efficient matador.

'Ooooooh!!! You smell GORGEOUS!' he squealed, whilst flailing his nostrils (half Hannibal Lecter, half Michael Tolliver.) 'What is that perfume?'

'Pure Grace by Philosophy' I replied.

'Ooooooooh!!! How come I've never heard of it?' he demanded.

I bit my tongue and stopped myself retorting that I have indeed mentioned this perfume on my other 28 visits to his salon.

'So, what am I doing for you today Miss U?' he enquired cheerfully.

I explained that I had decided to grow my hair, but that I needed him to make me look a little less like a 1970s footballer.

Soon the scissors were whirring, and I was (as usual) regaling him with horror stories from the School of Hard Knocks and he was telling me about his New York holiday plans.

Finally came the grand unveiling of my new look. . .

'Ta da!' he shrieked excitedly as he pranced around me with a mirror.

. . . my heart sank. It was exactly the same as my old look. With all our chat he had completely forgotten the crucial information about me growing my hair. He had given me my usual elfin crop. (I like to think it very Jean Serberg, although sadly, in reality it may be more Judi Dench).

My hairdresser must have noticed the fleeting look of confused disappointment that fluttered across my face when I saw my really short hair.

'erm. . . . You'll notice I've kept it a bit . . . . errr . . . choppier on the top?????' he queried hopefully.