One week on and my hair had faded somewhat, in that it has got brighter, if that makes any sense. In other words the blue dye is beginning to wash out (mostly onto my pillowcase, which I may auction on eBay, as the Tinman version of the Shroud of Turin). As I said at the time they had to bleach my hair first to get the blue to hold and the blonde underneath is starting to show through. The PSYWs (Pencil-Slim Young Wans) at work reckon it may actually go green for a while.
Anyway, two more ordeals to face this week, involving two of the many professionals who organise my life. Tomorrow I’ve to go to my dentist, and I’m hoping that he can control his laughter and keep his hand steady as he operates his collection of whirring, shrieking instruments of terror.
And last night three of my four types of tablets ran out, so today I’d to face my pharmacist, a man who knows all about the amount of mental-issue medication that I’m on.
I have to confess that I was a bit disappointed, when he handed me the large bag that contains what is essentially my breakfast that he didn’t whisper “I’ve slipped in an extra ten of each. Oh, and I’ve doubled the strength.”
It would have shown that he cares.