Friday morning. Non-uniform day at school as last day before the half term holiday. Eeek, another holiday, already. Where has the time gone?
“Can you do my hair please Mum?”
I get the styling brush (yes one of those heated things as you are talking to Non-Hairdresser-Of-The-Year here) and set to work. Smooth some curls, wave out others. We are both pleased with the results. She trots off to school looking pretty and happy. I wonder why the hell I can’t do that with my own hair.
But the hair thing throws me right back. Way back.
Back to my Grannie tying my hair up in raggy ringlets whenever she came round on a Sunday for dinner and me hating every minute of it. “How old fashioned” I’d moan as she twisted the scraps of fabric and wound my long red (yes it used to be bright red) hair round each one and tied it in a knot on my scalp. It pulled and itched. I’d have to sleep with this bobbly feeling head and wake in the morning to have Mum unwind all the rags leaving me with all these ringlets. Golden ringlets my Mum called them.
Funny how you can be thrown right back with a memory. I can almost feel the tightness in my head as I write this, I can hear my Grannies voice. I am back there in my mind. Dare I look in the mirror and see a face four decades older, now nearer to my Grandmother than myself as that child.
Time flies doesn’t it.
Have a great weekend.
Results of the giveaway on Monday.