I rather like that advertisement currently running with the bloke who is accompanied everywhere by his hair. There's a great shot of the bloke playing a duet with his hair at the piano (pictured below) and it makes me laugh. His hair looks just like a bush in my old mum's back garden and now every time I look at that bush it makes me laugh too. These days, you have to get your pleasures where you can.
And - as some smart media researcher has shrewdly identified - that advertisement reminds me a little of my own relationship with my hair. I have a lot of hair. A lot. And my hair certainly has a life and soul of its own.
My hairdresser, Vince, who happens to be a property developer (trust me to end up with some geezer who drops his comb at the slightest provocation to take some call about nine acres in Nuneaton), always says "Sadek's got s**t hair", which is a tad disloyal - to say the least! Well, as I say, I have a lot of hair, and he has to tackle it as Dr Livingston would hack through the jungle.
In the teeth of opposition from old Vince there (he was the one who did Columbia Road Flower Market - clever boy!), I have been growing my hair. Of course, the received wisdom from the salon fraternity is that it is not acceptable for - ahem - mature ladies to have long hair but, as my wise friend the lovely Lesley Fletcher says, rather robustly: "Take no notice of your hairdresser's views of ladies of a certain age and long hair - it's a conspiracy. They all do it to ensure you continue visiting them every six weeks. Work it out on an annual basis - it's a good regular income!" Oh wise words from a woman with immaculate hair.
I was at a meeting with John Gummer the other day (name dropper, moi?) who asked me what was with the long hair and I told him, quite truthfully, that this was my last real shot at being "totty", to which he responded - ever the gallant gentlemen - that it was certainly NOT my last shot (oh love that man!), and then went on to give me a fascinating lecture in the medieval history of the St James's area of London. Apparently the word "totty" is derived from "Tothill Street" - not a stone's throw from the great John Gummer's office - Tothill Street being the red light area of St James and therefore well placed to - uh - service the royal households.
Always a joy to spend time with JSG. Not only is he a mine of information and one of the cleverest blokes alive but you always have the greatest laugh. Once, when I was there, he spotted a UKIP member visiting the building next door and all business was suspended until he had hoisted the European Flag outside his front door. Oh the energy, the passion, the commitment.
Finally, for those of you who were worrying about me, I am delighted to report that, thank the good gawd, Scary Ange is back from her hols. Scary Ange runs the Central London Development team for CBRE (my gaffer, the great Adrian Bunnis, possibly the finest development consultant in Europe, likes to think he runs the Central London Development team but everyone knows the truth). Blimey we've missed old Scary there! To say things have been in disarray is nearly as big an understatement as Darra Singh saying that taking on Job Centre Plus is a "great responsibility".
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