Ow

The post below was a little dark - so now for something lighter (see it's all about pace and tempo...)

My mum, who has been told many a time that she looks like one of the Golden Girls (remember them?) - the one with a deep voice - even though she actually has quite a high pitched voice, loves entering competitions - sudoku, crosswords, everything and anything. So she wins things all the time which can come in quite handy. Anyway once upon a time she won 280 pounds worth of 'Instant Weave' hair from the Voice newspaper. Conceding that her grey bob was unlikely to be enhanced by a woolly weave-on, she sent me to receive it in her stead. So off I went, with a mate to the 'Afro Hair and Beauty Show' which at that time - took place inside an airport hangar off the north circular.

I had to sit, perched in the middle of a podium while four women with frighteningly curly fingernails pulled at my roots and cackled at the state of my dandrufty-tufty afro while attacking my head with a frenzy of clips and twists. '100% pure Chinese hair' they kept telling me. In big helpings - with gold safety pin things attached to the ends. It took hours and hours. My friend kept wandering off to have a look around at the wigs, gels, conditioners, straighteners, tongs and other delights. And each time she returned to check progress, she crumpled up on the floor in hysterics.

The crowd that gathered provided an unflattering commentary. Someone shouted out 'Poodle head'. Finally, transformed into an incarnation of Diana Ross (at her most hairy), I was set free.

I tried to stand up but the sheer weight of the new head of hair yanked me back down. I felt as though I was in drag. I understood why long-haired rocker blokes bob their heads in that jerky way - as they walk along. It was like having a curtain sewn on to my head.

I kept it in for 2 days and then pulled it all out.