‘I need a new hairstyle,’ I announced loudly.
‘There’s nothing wrong with your hair,’ the Lord of the Manor responded with overt disinterest… although I suspected he was hiding immediate concerns about how this new grievance was going to impact on his untroubled serenity.
‘It’s scraggy,’ I complained. ‘I’m thinking of cutting it all off.’
Now, I expected some objection…. But what the Lord of the Manor said next didn’t just send chills through me – but rather great, big, lacerating wedges of ice deep into my spine.
‘Perhaps you just need a new colour,’ he suggested thoughtlessly.
….and once again for those who missed it….
WHAT THE FLUFFING WHAT?
Not to blow my own trumpet… but I am a natural blonde, people.
A Natural blonde!
We’re talking lovely golden locks here. What colour would he rather have me be?
‘What colour do you suggest?’ I asked in a measured tone, though the The Lord of the Manor could be in no doubt the conversation had taken as very dangerous turn as my fangs slowly descended.
He paused to study me for a moment before answering somewhat recklessly, ‘Mousey brown?’
‘WHAT?’ I screeched in utter disbelief. ‘You did not just say mousey brown!?!’
‘Copper?’ He amended quickly, perhaps hoping for a reprieve. He hoped in vain.
‘Copper….’ I repeated breathlessly, my voice lost to the sheer horror. ‘With my complexion?’
It was clear, dear reader, the Lord of the Manor had gone stark raving mad. Absolutely and utterly taken leave of his senses. Insane. Who in their right mind suggests a NATURAL BLONDE dye their hair mousey brown?
…… Someone with a death wish, that’s who!
Mousey brown! I couldn’t believe it.
I can’t believe it.
There are no words, people…
I was speechless….
….. Then, he smiled.
Good one! He got me good.