The Weekend (and all it entails).

Sooo, it's the weekend. Everyone's favourite piece of time outside of the week. A veritable haven between the exhaustion of Friday and the feet-dragging toil that is Monday morning. This weekend, I have been productive, but not in the way I ought.
Apart from experimenting with new hairstyles vis-a-Val Denton and Diana from The Years between, I have been a busy, busy thing:

This morning I had an interview with the District Commissioner and various official people about being a Scout Leader which was possibly one final check that I wasn't a paedophile. It went well, and I got a free bacon roll and cup of tea out of it. Not bad for Saturday morning.

Also went to gather materials and shiny new pens from Hobbycraft which, other than being a rip off, is the magical place where all stationary and craft materials go once they've sold out to The Man. Needed a sketchbook, and fast, so there was no real choice.

Then found out through that wonderful gossip machine, Facebook, that there was a Jumble Sale on in Blissworth. Being a sufferer of Boot Sale withdrawal, myself, I was up in arms about going. So we went, and I swear I have bought a poor-man's wardrobe in clothes, along with some books, a DVD, a bowl, some free tupperware from a woman who insisted that being a student equates to needing charity aaaand a pipe which makes me feel like Sherlock Holmes. Also some pressies for my Padre, whose birthday is on Wednesday. :)  ALL of this, I add, for under £3. Mind. Blown. Milo would definitely be proud.


Thanks, Worley.

So, as far as other plans go. Tonight is set to be an excellent Stay-In-Day-Late-Pub Therapy session, with added amusement and DVDs and Annas. Which makes me unreasonably excited, but I think I'm still riding the high of feeling like an utter thief for paying only 10/20p a piece for clothes. I love living in a village.

That is all for now, darlings, over and out, a bien tot!

Hair is some advice...

This is a fable - that means you should learn from it - told from my experiences of this week. This is what occurred:

On Friday night, after a long and pretty dashed busy week, I was naturally very tired. I was also rather grimey. So, what did I decide to do? Naturally, I didn't want to soil my bed by taking to it before I was clean, so I dived in the bath. It was the perfect excuse to mess about with the cranberry bath bombs from the Quiz victory.

Now, it was all fine and dandy - they worked a treat, and I came out about 3/4 of an hour later practically sparkling (Twishite style) with cleanliness.

THIS, is where things went wrong. Dried myself in a rather hasty and half-asleep fashion, then fell into pajamas and bed. What I didn't take into account, however, was the state of my hair.

My hair is of the consistency that, if left to dry naturally without being thrown about on a pillow through restless sleep as it dries comes out in ringletty curly things, which is all fine and dandy. Indeed, quite recently it had been behaving itself very well indeed. Until now.

Having gone to bed with damp hair, I woke up looking very much like this:

I even had that expression the moment I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

Well, I know what you must be thinking - It's OKAY! You can slather it with serum and brush it into submission. You are gravely mistaken. The addition of a hairbrush turned it into more of an 80s big hair disaster.

I think we can all agree that this is only remotely dashing IN the 80s and not in the 201's when frizz is practically the devil.

No amount of serum, nor mousse, nor hairspray can tame my hiroshima-fuzz hair when it goes this way. Not even washing it again. I am a walking stick of candyfloss.

And this is why, kids, you should never let sleep take you while your hair is still on-the-dry. Avoid it at all costs!