No shades of grey

Rumour has it that my hair is grey. It's a lie, a big fat non-grey hairy lie, verging on the libellous.I'll admit there may be a hint of grey at the roots, but that doesn't last long, it gets blasted with as many variations of red as the spectrum allows.

This time I even had a touch of purple to go with the bruises I got climbing via ferrata in the Dolomites. Quite a good match as it turned out. It's definitely worth a few hours in a comfy chair with a headful of sparkly foil, a glass of wine in one hand and the latest copies of Vogues and Cosmo in the other. I've even persuaded Noel to join me for a 'proper' haircut. He was very reluctant, especially with his aversion to fancy hair products. He maintains carbolic was good enough for his dad, so it's good enough for him.  I did point out that his dad was follically challenged, probably the result of carbolic poisoning. There are no colours for Noel, though, he's growing old as disgracefully as he possibly can.

So that's the hair sorted, no grey at all. What's worrying me now are the eyebrows, I've pulled out the odd stray grey, but, dammit, they just grow again. I think I'll just grow my fringe over my eyes.

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