Thursday, 28 February 2013

New Beauty Product Alert: Diorshow Iconic Overcurl Mascara...

Quick one from me today...

Now, you may or may not know that I have rather a penchant for mascaras. They are probably my most purchased cosmetic item. I have spent years, years, looking for the perfect mascara, that would give me long and curly, fluttery lashes. I dread to think just how much money I've invested, and inevitably thrown away.

Sure there have been contenders - Benefit "They're Real" and Lancôme "Virtuose" being the ones that immediately spring to mind- but when it's come to the re-purchase they've always left me bitterly disappointed and wondering what it was about them that wowed me in the first place.

And so the hunt has continued...

Enter Diorshow Iconic "Overcurl" Mascara.

This is the latest addition to Dior's classic Diorshow line. According to their website Overcurl features "an incurved brush, modelled after professional eyelash curlers, that delivers a stretch-effect formula for spectacularly shaped lashes"

They had me at eyelash curlers.

I've never found a mascara that replicates the effect a manual curler gives, so that's quite some claim. And one I'm itching to put to the test!

Has anyone tried Overcurl? Does it do what it says on the tin (well, tube, but you get the gist...)? Or do you have any other mascaras you'd like to recommend? Let me know in the comments!

Diorshow Iconic Overcurl Mascara- £23- Available now.

Wednesday, 27 February 2013

Surprise, Surprise...

Remember I said last week that there was something afoot for Saturday?

Well, you know what? I wasn't wrong!

Suspicions were well and truly aroused when Mr. G, after suggesting in the morning that we go for coffee at a very specific time, steered us in the direction of a local pub. An extremely delightful local pub, granted, but not one that would have Starbucks' (other coffee chains are available, natch) Baristas losing any sleep.

After questioning (a lot. A gag might have been useful here, just saying...) why we were in said delightful pub, and not in one of the countless coffee shops that were pretty much everywhere, we decamped to a cafe across the road.

After two hot chocolates, and much confusion on my part, it was mooted, casually, that we return to the pub. At this point, the game was pretty much up.

So, back over the road we go. I push open the door to the pub (with more than a sense of déjà vu) and, like a Magic Eye picture slowly coming into focus, I realised that, stood right in front of me were assorted members of my family. And then I happened to look out the window and saw my Aunt and Uncle driving past, waving furiously. My Aunt and Uncle who I had thought, until that precise moment, were holidaying in Malaysia.

Clearly not.

Each time I looked around another friend or family member had materialised. It was like an episode of This is Your Life. Except in a pub. And minus Michael Aspel. And without a big red book. So, er.....not really like it at all then.

The sheer delight at being surrounded by so many people who mean the world to me, is a feeling I shall cherish for a very long time to come.

Once everyone (all 30+ of them!) had been accounted for, we trooped en masse to a nearby restaurant.

A chaotic frenzy of food ordering, present opening, card reading, and noisy conversation ensued. I barely ate, however, as I was too overwhelmed. I just kept staring around the (very long) table in wonder. I don't think it had sunk in what was happening.

After our plates had been cleared away the table fell strangely quiet. And then the singing started, and this work of art was brought out to me:

Isn't it a beauty? It was made for me by one of my dearest friends, and decorated by another. They'd been up until 11.30pm the night before rolling out and colouring icing, crafting sugar paste flowers by hand and putting the finishing touches to it. That's not to mention the fact my friend actually made the cake in London and managed to transport it all the way down to Bristol- in one piece!

And yes, it tasted every bit as incredible as it looks!

After cake, I was whisked back to the flat for a much needed bit of rest and relaxation. Before the evening's festivities began. Yes, ladies and gentleman, we weren't done yet.

Three hours, four manicures (that's a manicure for myself and three others. Not that I have four hands or anything. You don't suddenly grow extra extremities upon turning 30. Sadly.), copious cups of tea (and a sneaky glass of wine) and no rest at all later, it was time for me to put my glad rags on. With some much needed assistance. And even then I still managed to nearly go flying trying to wrestle my jeans off. Note to self: tights under skinny jeans? Just don't.

With me finally dressed (jeans 0 - Jen 1) it was time to pile into a taxi. We arrived a very short while later (as in, a minute or two. But hey, I cant walk far; it was uphill; it was my birthday party and also?  It was bloody freezing. So, y'know my prerogative and all that...) outside my favourite pub in the whole of this fair city.

I was escorted upstairs, to be greeted by a very loud rendition of Happy Birthday: if I thought the turnout earlier in the day was impressive, this was off the scale. Again, as my eyes focused on the scene in front of me, I became aware of my family, Mr. G's family, and pretty much every friend I'd ever known ever. At least, that's what it felt like.

It was, quite simply, incredible.

Once I'd found my feet, and hugged more people than I thought it possible to hug in the space of ten minutes, it was time for yet more presents and cards!

And more cake....

This one courtesy of my wonderful Mum. And yes, that's a baked bean with legs. It's my nickname: Bean. See...?

Before I knew it, it was gone midnight, and I'd talked myself horse. It was time to, regrettably, call it a night. But what a night. What a day in fact. What a birthday...

It's taken me four days to write this as I just haven't had the energy to do it all in one go. Instead, I've had to keep adding to it as and when I've been awake. Which, given the fact I've spent the past three days practically comatose, hasn't been very often.

Oh but it was so very worth it. This is one birthday I will truly never forget. 

A post on my presents to follow soon...

As for Mr. G? The boy did good. The boy did bloody good.

Friday, 22 February 2013

Beauty Product Review: Bio Oil

I've had a bottle of Bio Oil lying around for the past three years. It was one of those impulsive, 'the-world-and-their-dog-has-one-so-I-need-one-too' buys. Clearly I didn't need one that much as I actually only tried it out once before stuffing it into a cupboard and forgetting all about it.

Until now.

Over the past few weeks my skin had felt really dry and I noticed I was getting pronounced dehydration lines. Which, given the amount of water I down in a day, was intensely frustrating. On a whim, and learning that, as well as its stretch-mark slaying prowess, Bio Oil was also lauded for its hydrating and skin-tone even-ing properties, I dug it out and layered it on- after cleansing- before I went to bed one evening.

I was a little dubious at first as to how effective it would be. I'd ventured into using oil as a moisturiser before, with olive oil. Yes, olive oil. What a misguided adventure that was. My face looked, well, exactly like I'd rubbed a copious amount of oil onto it. My skin didn't so much glow as shine with grease. Lovely. Oh and don't get me started on the smell. 

So yes, as I say, I was a little on the sceptical side...

But I needn't have been, for the next day I woke up with strokeably (no, I know that's not an actual word) soft skin. The dehydration lines? Vanished. The dryness and tightness had gone too. Best of all, there was no greasy residue.

All Bio Oil's wonderfully soothing ingredients (Calendula, Chamomile, Lavender, and Rosemary oils; Vitamins A and E) had obviously worked their magic.

This is now firmly part of my evening skin care regime. Using it before bedtime means it has all night to sink in and do it's thing.

If you've got a bottle loitering in the back of the bathroom cabinet, give it a go!

Bio Oil - £8.99- 60ml.

Thursday, 21 February 2013

Reading List #2

Another quick blog reccommendation for you all...

Written by a Twitter friend of mine, It'll Get you in the End, deals with, amongst other things, his experience as a newly diagnosed Type 1 Diabetic.

It's a great read and, for someone like me, who is woefully ignorant of this life changing and often debilitating condition, Loui's first person account is a real eye opener.

Further information on Diabetes (both Type 1 and 2) can be found at Diabetes UKNHS Choices and

Wednesday, 20 February 2013

Reading List...

Apart from writing my own blog, I also love discovering and reading new gems in the Blogosphere.

Here are three of my most recent - and favourite- finds:

I love them, and hope you will too! I hope to make this a semi regular feature, so if you have any recommendations, or even want to nominate your own blog, drop me a link in the comments section!

Hello 30...

It finally happened. The big 3-0. And here's what it looked like...

Unfortunately that's not my cat (I spotted him on our walk to breakfast and wanted to take him home with us.), but that is my brand spanking new iPad (thank you Dad!) I squealed. Loudly.

Mr. G also came up trumps with my beautiful Michael Kors watch. It needs a fair few links taken out- owing to the fact I have wrists the size of a tiny tiny child- but other than that it is perfection in horological form.

I was also thoroughly spoilt with Rosé Champagne, flowers, chocolates, a hot chocolate mug (with polka dots people!), Botanics goodies and the gorgeous little key necklace up above. As I say, spoilt. I'm a very lucky 30 year old indeed.

Dinner was enjoyed at a fantastic restaurant (within a short walking distance, as everything has to be these days...) where I tucked enthusiastically into a horse-free steak and fries, and a melt-in-the-middle Chocolate Brownie. Divine.

I was feeling strong enough to have a little pootle around in the glorious early spring sunshine, but, with hindsight this probably wasn't the greatest idea. The payback was almost immediate, and by the evening all strength had gone from my legs and I nearly fainted in the bathroom. 

Not quite the end to the perfect day I'd been hoping for, but you can't have it all...

Luckily the celebrations aren't over yet as there's something afoot for Saturday. What exactly, I have no idea.

So. Do I feel older? Wiser? More grown up? No, no, and don't make me laugh!

Happier then?

Well, that'd be a resounding yes.

Monday, 18 February 2013

And blow...

Apologies again for the morose offering on Saturday, I was feeling rather overwhelmed by it all for a moment there. But, as I said,  if I didn't activate the relief valve once in a while I would surely go a bit crazy. Well, more so than I already am...

Fear not 'though, normal service has been resumed.


The last day of my 20s! About bloody time. I've been looking forward to this moment for months. The 'Christmas Eve' sense of anticipation is gathering pace rapidly. If I'm not careful, I'll make myself sick with excitement. Oh, wait...

I have a history of doing that. Getting so excited (birthdays, Christmas, DFS sales*....) about something I end up physically ill. In fact, my 10th birthday has gone down in family legend:

My party that year was American themed. Loosely. Very loosely. We tucked into burgers (yeah, no stereotypes here.), ice cream and mounds of toffee popcorn whilst watching (my guests) and singing horrendously out of tune to (me) the celluloid camp-fest that is Grease.

An hour or so in, after warbling my way through all the classics,  and boogieing my little socks off (nothing's changed, they're still little now), I started to get a stabbing pain in my ribs. "Too much popcorn" the adults admonished wryly and, after administering a swift indigestion tablet, I was released back into the fray.

But the pain didn't go away. It got worse. Just as Sandy was getting her man, and some rather uncomfortable chafing in certain areas, I was lying on our couch in agony, my guests having been sent home in hushed tones. And that's when the cake came out.

At this point I was struggling to breathe, but I managed a few feeble attempts at extinguishing the candles. Only for them to burst into flame again. And again. And again.

Yes, as fate would have it, that was year that my Mum, in her wisdom, had treated me to magic relighting candles (it was the 90s, we were easily pleased back then). There was me, a distinctly unhealthy shade of grey, gasping for breath, and being tormented by these sodding candles that would not go out.  Oh and then the ambulance arrived.

One bout of double pneumonia, a blood gas, two drips, and ten days in hospital later and I was finally able to blow them out. Victory!

My life: you couldn't make it up.

So, yes, tomorrow? I am excited. Also? I will be aiming to stay as far away as possible from popcorn and pyrotechnical trickery.


*I'm kidding. No really, I am.

Saturday, 16 February 2013

Square One...

It's been a while since I've updated on the sitch with the 'ole M.E.

Mainly because I didn't want it to become the dominate theme of the blog (clue's in the name: It's not all Me, Me, Me. See what I did there?) and also because, well, there wasn't really all that much to say. Since around the beginning of January my symptoms seemed to have stabilised. I felt as if I was able to do just that little bit more, without paying too much of a penalty. I was still a long way off being cured but, crucially, I felt that it was at least a possibility. One day. In the early months I couldn't envisage a time when I'd be "normal" again.

However, in recovering from a cold I caught over a week ago (the first full blown one I'd had since becoming sick last summer), I feel like I'm right back where I started all those months ago. I have less than no energy, the simplest chores are once again leaving me drained (taking a shower, for instance, has fallen way down on the priority list. Judge all you like, but this is the sad, and frequently unpleasant, reality of living with M.E.) and the lightheadedness has returned with a vengeance.

A cold is never a pleasant experience, but I've been surprised at just how much it's knocked me for six. Perhaps it's naive of me to have assumed otherwise, I don't know? As far as colds go it was a pretty benign one, but the same can't be said for the aftermath.

Of course, it could all be a coincidence and it's just the merry-go-round  of symptoms, characteristic of this illness, in full swing but I doubt it.

Either way, it's wholly dispiriting and serves to remind me- just in case I'd had the temerity to try and forget-that I really am at the mercy of this condition. Hyperbole, or not, I've come to realise that what little control I had over my body (that which hadn't already been purloined by my COPD), has gone,  and this, for me, is the hardest thing of all.

I apologise for the doom and gloom of this one woman pity party, but honestly, if I didn't have this valve, this means of release, I swear I'd go mad. On top of everything else.

In other- more cheery- news: three days until my birthday. And counting...

Thursday, 14 February 2013

Happy St. Valentine's Day!

As you can imagine I don't have the energy to whip up a storm in the kitchen or do much in the way of big romantic gestures, but Mr. G will be coming home to this Valentine's surprise:

He's also got a card, a little gift and (most important of all!) tea in his favourite mug.

Well, it's the thought that counts...

Hope you have a lovely Valentine's evening everyone, whatever you may be doing and whomever you're with.

Parlez-vous Français?

I haven't studied French, in an academic setting, in a very, very (one more? oh go on then...) very long time. Twelve years in fact, when I was studying at college for my French A-Level under the expert tutelage of the indomitable Mme Taylor.

Despite being very obviously not French (with a name like Delyth?) she was an absolute powerhouse in the lecture room. Woe betide anyone, 'though,  who didn't do their homework, or turned up late, or interrupted her class whilst teaching. As one girl did. Her infringement? Popping her head 'round the door and asking to borrow a dictionary. Funnily enough we never saw her again. She could put the fear of God into you when she wanted to but boy did she get results.


Having not revisited the language in over a decade (aside from watching copious films over the years, but I'm not sure that counts, what with having English subtitles and all?), and given that I'm a self confessed Francophile and the fact that Mr. G's Mum (and thus assorted uncles, aunts and cousins) and a good friend of mine are French (oh and, y'know, trying to stop my brain from atrophying any further thanks to the ole, M.E.) I thought it high time I reacquainted myself. I can speak it, not altogether fluently, but I can make myself understood. Just about. Sort of.

My writing, however, is rusty in the extreme. I can cobble together a few emails and text messages but that's as far as it goes. Really comprehension is my strongest suit.

So, in an effort to even things up a bit, I did what any self respecting smart phone user does. I found an app for that.

Enter MindSnacks. Purveyor of educational and interactive language learning tools. The app itself is free, but you can purchase additional exercises if you wish to do so.

It's incredibly user friendly, comprising of word challenge games that you have to master in order to progress up a level. The interface is simple and charming, there's a definite whiff of kawaii about it but don't let that put you off- the app is aimed at all age groups. And if, like me, you love a bit of cute then MindSnacks will be right up your street.

The games I've played so far have been fast paced and fun. Whilst they might seem a little on the repetitive side, it's this repetition  that really works in getting the words to stick. Personally I find the drilling method of language learning works best for me but it might not be for everyone.

The games feature native speakers announcing the words, whilst they're on the screen, so you get a double whammy of aural and comprehension exercise whilst also familiarising yourself with the spelling of the words too.

MindSnacks gets a firm neuf points from me. It'd have got ten but for the fact you have to pay to access more lessons. Otherwise, this is a great little app and well worth downloading if you want to tentatively get back into learning a foreign language.

Image courtesy of

MindSnacks is available to download free from the App Store.

Tuesday, 12 February 2013

How was it for you...?

It's exactly a week until my 30th. Erm, how did that happen? Someone? Anyone? I swear it was only yesterday that it was still a whole three months away?

Anyway. Seven days left of my 20s (ok more like six and a half days now seeing as it's mid afternoon and all, but y'know...).

Will I be sorry to wave them goodbye? In all honesty, no. Not one iota. Apart from some notable highlights (going to University, graduating, meeting Mr. G etc) the past decade hasn't exactly been the best ten years of my life. Popular culture and glossy magazines would have us believe that the ages 20 through 29 are a perky roller coaster of adventure, discovery and fun (with a capital 'F'). 

Well here's a shocker: they lied.

The decade, for me at least, has been marred by uncertainty and insecurity. I've experienced depression, unemployment, anxiety, heartbreak, illness and loss. A roller coaster? You could say that. Fun? No, not really.

Of course, there have been moments of undoubted joy, but they have been few and far between. The mid 20s crisis? Been there, done that, and bought the fair trade, 100% organic, cotton t-shirt.

So. Despite 30 being an awfully big number, and ever so slightly scary, I shall be positively welcoming it with open arms, a sigh of relief, and a rather large glass of champagne....


Monday, 11 February 2013


For anyone else looking for inspiration for their next inking, may I also recommend the excellent Tattoo Tuesday? It was a feature in one of my favourite blogs: Sometimes Sweet. Dani doesn't run the feature anymore, sadly, but the archives are still up and they are definitely worth a peek. I literally lost hours looking through them last year. Great people, with great artwork -what's not to love?

The Body (Art) Beautiful Part II

Someone stop me! Pinterest has taken over my life (put the iPhone down Jen, and back away slowly...). I seem to have developed somewhat of a teeny, tiny obsession; trawling through endless (and I do mean endless) pictures of tattoos, sketches for would-be tattoos and tattoo flash. I'm like a woman possessed, pinning left, right and centre.

Here are my latest, and greatest finds:

All images courtesy of Pinterest

Julia Gnuse can rest easy, her world record is still safe. For now....

Sunday, 10 February 2013

And now for something completely different...

Today isn't just the 10th of February, oh no, today also happens to be my Dad's birthday. His 60th to be exact.

I know that he reads this here Blog- in fact it was his encouragement that got me writing again. You've got him to thank really for the existence of It's not all Me, Me, Me...- so I thought it would be rather fitting to write a little post dedicated to, well, him.

Congratulations Dad on attaining this momentous milestone. I want to also take this opportunity to thank you, for being one of my biggest cheerleaders, for your absolute belief in me, and for your endless and unfailing support, love, and supply of pasties! You can take the boy out of Cornwall...

I wish you nothing but happiness (and health, especially health) on this, your 60th birthday.

All my love,

Your Daughter x

Saturday, 9 February 2013

The Body (Art) Beautiful...

I can't remember if I've mentioned it before (I probably have, and it's just M.E. brain striking again. Yeah, that happens a lot) but I currently have three small tattoos: a swallow on the inside of my left wrist, Roman numerals on the inside of my left arm and a little red bow on the inside of my right wrist.

I got my first (the Roman numerals) in March 2009. A month later I got my second. My third one was inked in 2010 as a 27th birthday present to myself.

I thought I was done then, but over the past year or so I've been hankering after another one. Or several.

So far money and uncertainty about what exactly to go for (which is kind of crucial when you're planning to get something indelibly drawn onto your skin) have thwarted any actual attempts at going under the needle again. But now, thanks to the wonders of Pinterest, I have a whole heap of inspiration.

Below are my absolute favourite designs. I want them all.

Images courtesy of Pinterest.

I'd change the placement of a number of them (apart from the quote and silhouette, I simply love the location of that one) but otherwise they're pretty much perfect. 

Now I just need to beat the proverbial arse (excuse my language) of M.E. as neuro immune disease and tattoo guns, sadly, probably don't make the happiest of bedfellows. I'm willing to stand corrected, however, if anyone knows otherwise.

Do you have any tattoos? Where do you get your inspiration from?

Thursday, 7 February 2013

Mulberry Musings...

It's not really any great secret that I've wanted a Mulberry bag for, ooh, ever.

Their craftsmanship is renowned the world over, and their designs beautiful and timeless.

The Daria Hobo had always been the object of my affections. Slouchy, casual and effortlessly chic. But, as my style has evolved, I've found myself lusting more and more after the more structured Alexa satchel. Harder lines, sturdier, with a definite nod to the humble briefcase, this is a bag that means business (in every sense of the word) but retains that casual vibe.

The Alexa also scores points with its cross body strap. I have great difficulty carrying shoulder bags as, due to the world's most ineffectual shoulders©, I find they constantly slip off and I'm forever hoisting them back up. First world problem, I know, but it's exceedingly annoying.

So yes, the Alexa is now the go-to bag to ogle over whenever I visit the Mulberry website. Which is alarmingly frequently, it has to be said. The soft buffalo black leather, the shiny hardware, the sheer gorgeousness of the thing.

One day, one day....

     Mulberry Alexa -image courtesy of

Tuesday, 5 February 2013

Bill of Right!

Today UK MPs are debating the Marriage (Same Sex Couples) Bill. They will be voting at 19.00 GMT. 

I know where my vote would lie.

It's 2013. Equal marriage should already be a reality. It's quite honestly shameful that the law-makers of our land have, in their reluctance to bring this issue to the fore until now, all but denigrated the love and validity of millions' of couples and their relationships. Who are they to deny same-sex partners the rights and recognition afforded to those in Heterosexual relationships? How is it that, somewhere along the way, we lost sight of the fact that, Gay, Straight, or Bi, what should actually matter is the depth of love and understanding between two people, not their sexual orientation. The whole idea, when viewed with an objective eye, is both archaic and morally reprehensible.  

This needs to be changed, and it needs to be changed now.

Monday, 4 February 2013

Pixie Perfection

So. As you might have guessed, today was the big day: the chop.

I got there rather early. OK, so I'm anal about punctuality, but even for me a whole half hour early was a little bit unnecessary.

No matter because as soon as I announced my arrival, I was whisked into a chair for a consultation. After I'd devested myself of my oxygen, jacket, gloves, and glasses. Phew.

I duly showed my stylist (who introduced himself as Nic) the photos I'd taken along for inspiration (Shannyn Sossoman and Anne Hathaway, in case you're wondering) and then it was off to the sink...

I don't know about you but there's something quite luxurious about having someone else wash your hair. Considering the pretty poor effort I'd been doing of it for the past six months, I'd happily pay someone to take over.

Anyway, hair washed it was back to the chair and time for the fun to begin. I always forget just how much hair I have, it doesn't look like much on my head, but when it's piling up on the floor it looks like, as Nic said, you could stuff a rather sizeable cushion with it. It obviously has some weird reverse Tardis effect going on.

Most odd.

Not being able to wear my glasses during proceedings, I was sort of staring slash squinting at my reflection the whole time, giving me the look of a perpetually startled (and slightly deranged...) animal caught in the headlights. Attractive.

Usually I find the conversation a little stilted when getting my hair cut, but not so today. Nic put me at ease and we chatted away. Without a doubt he's one of the friendliest and most charming hair stylists' I've ever had the pleasure of visiting.

Oh, and he's got some damn good skills with a pair of scissors too.

So, it's time for the bit you've all been waiting for...

Here's the obligatory "before" picture:

And here's me "after":

What do you think? To say I'm pleased with it would be an understatement! I bloody LOVE it. Bye bye tangles and crappy condition, hello hot new hair!

I would absolutely, 100%, recommend Equinox. Discount or no discount, the service was second to none and the cost incredibly reasonable (£38 before discount). If you fancy giving them a whirl be sure to ask for Nic Crowley, trust me you won't be disappointed.

Now, excuse me while I go and admire myself in the mirror some more...

Sunday, 3 February 2013

Girls on Film (well, television)...

Over the weekend a friend introduced me to Girls. Owing to the fact we have the world's worst freeview service, this sublime slice of comedy-drama (dramedy?) had hitherto completely passed me by.

Which would have been a travesty. After taking a while to warm up to it during the first episode, it wasn't long before I was utterly hooked. We watched the first five episodes back-to-back. An addiction had been born. I seriously haven't been this captivated by a new show since Heroes (yeah, remember that?) first aired, which was, what, five, six years ago? We're talking quite a while.

Anyway, back to Girls. Having watched the entire first season in a sitting and a half, I'm champing at the bit to get started on season two. But, thanks to the fact we can't afford a Sky package right now, if, um, ever, I'll have to wait until it's released on DVD. Or watch it via some other, possibly not altogether legitimate means. Ahem.

If you too are late to this particular party, Girls stars Lena Dunham as Hannah Horvath. A twenty-something graduate/struggling writer/intern trying to make it in New York City. The show captures her, and her friends, trying to negotiate their way through the social, professional and emotional minefield that is the 20s. It's often not a pretty sight, but it's refreshingly honest and it's a theme that will probably ring true for anyone who's gone through the decade wondering where the hell they're heading, how they're going to get there, and whom they should be heading there with?

     Girls- Sky Atlantic- Mondays - 10pm

Saturday, 2 February 2013

Scissor Sister...

Readers of this here 'ole blog will remember that, just before Christmas, I was toying with
the idea of going for the chop.

Well, after a month or so of vacillating, I've finally booked myself an appointment. At a proper salon and everything! No more DIY job with the kitchen scissors for me, no sir.

The condition of my hair has really not improved. In fact, if anything, it's got worse. Not only am I still malting like a great big malty thing, but sections of hair (that have managed to somehow, miraculously, remain on my head) are now so matted and tangled I daren't even wave a brush in their general vicinity.

So, all things considered, I thought it was definitely time to do the deed and just lop it all off. Hopefully when it grows back it will be in a much healthier condition.

I'm booked in for Monday afternoon, at the closest possible hair salon I could find. Which, as it happens, is a three minute walk from mine. Oh, and they've also got a £5 off deal running at the moment. I love it when a plan comes together!

I shall be placing my trust and tresses in the (hopefully) very capable hands of Equinox Hair and Beauty.

Wish me luck...