I cannot begin to tell you the relief at being able to have a haircut and colour yesterday. There are too many ‘natural’ highlights in my hair; I know they’re there, but I really don’t want to see them! I can totally understand why women queued up at midnight on July 4th to get their hair cut. I was asleep as I wasn’t that desperate, but probably the hairdressers opened because they too are desperate … to earn some money.
I expected to see the hairdresser from outer space yesterday; full hazmat suit, mask, visor, gloves and goggles. However, she looked the same as she always does. She waved away my question about protective clothing, and said that Boris hadn’t taken into account hairdressers that are going through the menopause; she had a fear of being under too many layers of protective clothes when she had one of her frequent sweats on.
Yes, I can understand her point of view as well. Thankfully I’m through all that and out the other side, but I remember when it was my go and I had sweats about every half an hour. My hairdresser works in her own home, and surely then has the right to wear whatever she likes? It’s up to her customers to protect themselves if they see fit. In-between her ministrations I sat out in the garden. There was only myself and her in the room, and Sam briefly when he also popped in for a haircut. Between the two of us she took off enough hair to stuff a cushion. We could have worn masks, but I’m fed up of being fearful. It’s time for a little common sense now as the rate of infections start to fall.
Will we have a second wave? Who knows? If we keep on worrying about what might happen, then we’ll end up doing nothing. Sam and I are off to the Isle of Wight tomorrow so I’m going to risk the ferry and have a little bit of a blogging break. I’ve scheduled some Book Funnel promos and an Open Book Blog Hop for next Monday, but other than that it’s time for a little R&R. Yeah, okay then …I’ll wear a mask on the ferry, disposable gloves, a suit of armour and a chastity belt.