Thursday, 14 January 2016


My hair used to be this colour
I'm booked in at the barbers on Saturday morning. I know, having one's hair cut is hardly hold the front page material; but, trust me, having my Barnet trimmed is a mere sideshow. I can't begin to tell you the sheer unadulterated pleasure I get from the scalp massage that comes with the hair wash, pre and post-cut, from my ever so slightly crazy Thai hairdresser.

I've read that the feelings derived from a head massage are up there with falling in love and holding your baby. Yep, I'll go along with that. I'm so utterly relaxed I practically fall asleep when I'm lying back in the chair thinking of, well, everything and nothing all at the same time. And I get fresh coffee too. And change from twenty English pounds. What's not to like?

Coming soon in my 'Should get out more' series: just how pleasurable is an eye test?

Which is clearer, red or green?



  2. I totally get this! I adore having my hair cut, I thought it might be something primal to do with being 'groomed' like you see monkeys doing to each other... mother cats licking their kittens, that kind of thing, physically pleasurable but also sort of cleansing?
    But eye tests - ugh! Hate them. Perhaps I should ask my optician to stroke my hair?

    1. PS Have you ever tried one of these?