A hairdo has cured my FOGO.
I’ve been so stricken with Fear Of Going Out, I’ve been trying to avoid the mirror so I couldn’t see my unruly hair and realise the urgent need to venture to the hair salon.
But when neighbours clapped eyes on my hair and said “You can’t go around looking like that” – and I’m sure I heard a few sniggering – I realised it was time to face my fears.
If you imagine Rod Stewart in the 70s after he’d driven on a long motorway with his head stuck out the window, that was a tame version of my hair.
So I did it. I finally braved it out of my street for the first time since March 9.
I got up at 5am and had to visit the loo six times because I was a bag of nerves. And it was a tight fit getting through the door because my hair was so big and bushy.
My friend Sheila had promised to take me, but she picked up that I was secretly nervous about getting into her car because my legs don’t work so well these days. She turned up in her daughter’s car, which was much higher and easier for me. That took a good few phone calls and lots of effort to organise and such consideration really means a lot.
On the way to Wrexham my eyes had to adjust to the new normal. The streets were half empty and the few people out had masks. It really hammered home the fact coronavirus has changed the world.
At Hair Do’s salon things were very different because there were lots of hand sanitisers and the stylists wore visors and masks. But within minutes that lovely home-from-home feeling returned and I felt completely safe and relaxed.
Restrictions meant the stylists couldn’t nip to Greggs for a sausage roll for me, or sneak me in a bag of chips. And I missed having their fabulous coffee. But I was so happy to feel pampered, so grateful to chat to lots of lovely people and adored the time away from my own four walls.
My hair had a really good wash and I had great shape cut into it. I feel like a new woman. I’m presentable rather than laughable, and I’m chuffed with myself for taking the steps out.
Now I’ve got a taste for freedom, I’m dreaming of going to a garden centre with my friend Beryl. I’d love a look around and to sit down for a coffee. And I feel happier going knowing no one will be sniggering at my lockdown hair.
I’m getting sentimental in old age
The older I am, the more sentimental I become. I cry so easily I avoid certain TV programmes I know will leave me a sobbing wreck.
I watched one episode of Long Lost Families when it first came out and cried until I felt wrung out like a kitchen cloth. And I could not watch the Jimmy McGovern drama Anthony because knowing that his poor mother lost her precious son in an attack would have left me in bits. Living on my own, and with no one to cuddle in lockdown, I just couldn’t put myself through it.
But some things catch me unawares and within seconds I can feel my eyes go. This week it was a news story about illegal puppy trading, and dogs dying soon after they were homed.
As a child we had a dog called Judge, a cocker spaniel who had ears like a judge’s white wig. We adored every day of his 15 years with us, and when he died we kept his lead. Sometimes me and my mum and dad sat around the fireplace, put an Elvis song called ‘Old Shep’ on the record player and sobbed.
Losing a dog hurts like hell. They’re not just a man’s best friend but part of the family.
Why royal fall out is a sad story
It must be very hurtful for Prince Charles to read stories about Prince William and Prince Harry ‘s fall out.
We might never know if Meghan really is the root of the row, or if the brothers’ beef runs deeper. But no one has any doubt that it will cause both of them, and their wider family, an awful lot of pain.
No one has a perfect family – we all have our skeletons. But sibling rivalry has never been a problem in our house.
My boys are different in every way. Jonathan loved his books and if I called him in for a bath, he’d be in like a shot.
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Robert was always outside with a tin can on his foot. Whenever I called him in for a bath, he’d vanish.
I’d shout into the street: “Robert, come in for a bath.” There’d be no sign of him.
The second time I’d shout: “Robert, I’ll forgive you the first time in case you didn’t hear me. But if you don’t come in now you better watch out.”
Still no sign of him. And I knew he’d be getting nervous.
The third time: “Robert, if you don’t come in right now you’d better watch out.”
Eventually he’d storm in, put one hand on the bannister and leap to the top of the stairs without touching any steps.
Knowing my two boys have grown up so different yet equally proud of each other feels like my life’s greatest achievement. As I get older, it’s a comfort to know they’ll always have that love for each other even when I’m long gone.
So I hope William and Harry put aside their differences and make up. Because a broken brotherly bond causes too much hurt.
I’ll miss Olivia de Havilland
The death of Olivia de Havilland was so sad, even though she was 104. I loved her and Vivien Leigh in Gone with the Wind. I loved her sister Joan Fontaine too, but Olivia was my favourite.
She was adored around the world for her beautiful English rose skin. But, unlike a lot of celebrities these days, she was classy and dignified enough to only show little glimpses of skin – not the whole shebang. You wouldn’t catch Olivia wearing a thong bikini on the beach and pouting up a storm.
I don’t understand thongs. They show too much and can’t be comfortable, never mind hygienic.
Mind you, if I had a figure like the girls who wear them, maybe I’d wear one too. If I did, there’d be no worries about social distancing on beaches – I’d clear the place for miles in minutes.
Mars rocket is out of this world
Billions ARE being spent sending a rocket to Mars. But we need to get Earth sorted first.
Let’s smooth out everything here before we start exploring other planets. Next we’ll be adding aliens to our problems.