Step One....

Decided to salvage some advice from the discarded magazine. Haircut. Need one anyway. And now and then I allow myself to "stray" from my usual hairdresser. My Korean girl has her salon down the road just past Fatso's and colouring there is great but her haircuts aren't so hot. So it was time for a bit of adventure. Play away from home, it was kind of exciting.

Go into this salon in the high street. Loud music, bloke on reception looking like he should be on a catwalk, and everything sparse and gleaming. Should have taken in these warning signs and legged it. But that would have been undignified - wouldn't it?

Its a well known hairdressers, part of a large chain, whose name is on a large section of hair products in Boots. Never touched 'em before. But wanted to look younger and if anyone can do it, these buggers can - or should.

Relieved to see i wasn't getting this young trendy stylist bloke with a stupid goatee beard. Like, we'd have so much common! And I mean no offence, dear, but i doubt if he'd even seen an older woman, let alone do their hair. Got a young girl instead , felt a bit better about that. At least we had the same sex in common.

But i noticed an alarming thing. When the last customer left, the hairdresser kissed her! I mean when did hairdressers ever kiss? I can't remotely imagine kissing old Fatso's neighbour and i'm sure the feeling's quite mutual. And as for my mum kissing Vera - or whatever her hairdresser of 20 years is called - she'd rather spit!

When did hairdressers get theatrical all of a sudden? Oh God, i don't have to kiss her , do I? I'll pay double! or anything! Mind you, its a better deal than the goatee beard. I'm not intactile, and i love greeting my pals with a kiss but this just seems odd.

As it happend I was spared. And she asked if my grey hair was a part of my highlights. Double tip for her I tell you! And the very young never believe the age you are! I mean i know she was butterin me up and i know my kind of age is far beyond her young horizons but its bliss just the same.

Which is more than can be said for the fracking haircut. What a load of old shit! Back to me old china plate next time I tell you. Still, it was an adventure and I got off lightly with the price (comparatively - old goatee beard would have charged far more).

Got Son's teacher this afternoon for the Parent Teacher consultation. I suspect he's gay - going to ask him (had you going there!)

Time to take off the make-up

Well, its over. The thing I'd been planning for a year is finally over. Never to go into that beautiful room again. (see above - only there wasn't any tables and chairs). Well unless I fork out another £500 anyway.

I was still laying out cheeses and crackers wearing my driving shoes and glasses when the first guest arrived. Luckily it was a close pal. In the end, it all got too overwhelming with serviettes and whatnot and olives that She took over while i went out for a fag with her husband. And that seemed to be the most I talked to someone.

Mates from Ireland and Berlin turned up especially for the event. Which was a little pointless as I spoke to them as much I did to the woman from down the road. Neither did I get my mitts on any cheeese - especially that Yorkshire Blue I'd got from the Waitrose Deli counter.

I seemed to be constantly outside greeting people and smoking. Keeping half an eye out for any new arrivals. The next thing I knew it was 3 o'clock and Husband was making a speech and step mother in law was cutting the cake. (The speech I made him do that is.) Where did that time go? I had barely been in that beautiful room.

My brother was over the other side of the room effing and blinding amongst the posh in-laws. He was trying to embarass me. But I had one valuable weapon - I was too pissed to care.

Going to the Ladies with my Mum, father in law appeared desperately searching for glasses to put away. I gave him a sweet look which said Sod Off You Old Fool. Ungrateful I know. There are natural taker-overs at parties - sometimes they're welcome, sometimes they're not.

By the time the out-laws had thrown away the last plate and packed up the wine (10 bottles left) I said to the remaining stragglers (my mates) that I was going to sit in this lovely window seat in this room of my dreams and actually relax. The moment I sat down I saw it was five to four! I panicked. If you stay over 4 o'clock you get charged another £150! We all legged it out of there. It was a cross between Cinderella and the Big brother House. But there was no Davina McCall to greet us - only a disgruntled father in law and hyperactive children.

Got home and unpacked the remains of the cheese and cake - whatever was i going to do with it all. My head spun from daytime drinking and my mouth tasted of sand. Two pound down because of 2 missing glasses, not to mention the best part of a Bag of Sand. But I wouldn't have changed it for the world.