My hair is awful. I look like I’ve just escaped from Abu Ghraib prison. It will all have to go now. I call my hairdresser. “This is Kell Skott Salon. We are closed for essential maintenance work today. The salon will re-open tomorrow. Please leave a message.”
The one day of my life that I have a genuine hairdressing emergency turns out to be the one day of the year that my hairdresser’s has a refit.
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