Snip, Snip!

Wednesday again. I take The Mother to town but this week I have booked us hair appointments. I wake up at 8.05am! Drat! I have 40 minutes to get up, hair washed, dressed and over the road and load the wheelchair and The Mother into the car.

At the hairdressers I went first so I could go shopping while The Mother had her hair cut and set. She sat nearby and at every snip I could see her wince through the mirror. She doesn't like me having my hair cut.

When I was I child I had hair so long I could sit on it and for school it was plaited. While on holiday, at about 10 years old, I protested to all the combing and putting into ringlets at bedtime and demanded it to be cut!

When we sat having coffee after our appointments The Mother said; "I wondered when she was going to stop cutting, I love that photo I have of you in the study!" That was 20 years ago, any 86 year old would like to remember their daughter as she was then! "Mum, I need it short to keep it tidy at all times." Well I go out in all weathers talking to people about photography I don't want hair all over the place.

I wish I could put my hands on a small version of the photo she is thinking of to scan and share with you. I did look good. But, that was then, and this is now!