Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow.

Most of my readers will have noticed that in my last post my wife has red hair. That is not to say that in my next post my wife will have red hair. We were in a shop last week. my wife looked at two dresses and asked me which one went with her hair. How silly, choose the dress colour and change the hair colour to match like you always do my dear.

We were in Asda recently and its massive. Now I'm not good in large supermarkets at the best of times. I managed to lose my family in Westfield on a family shopping trip. Having my whereabouts put out on the PA system when you're seventy plus is not funny. Held by the hand when being returned to your family by a young security guard is even less funny. (My daughter had suggested to the guard that her 'lost dad' looked like Lord Bath. As if a twenty something security guard would know what Lord Bath looks like, I ask you!)

But I digress, bright red hair has its advantages. Apart from sticking a toy windmill, or a Union Jack on her head I can think of no better way to signal my wife's whereabouts. It meant I could spot my wife from a dozen aisles away, very useful indeed, no more merging into the crowd. It was not the first time I have found my wife's choice of hair colouring useful. But strangely enough my wife was in fact second not first regarding the most conspicuous customer in the shop on one occasion. I lost my wife only three times. And each time I found her comparatively easily. But my searches revealed a strange thing. Each time I searched for my wife amidst the milling hoards I also 'discovered' a gentleman who was no doubt trying very hard to be inconspicuous. He was, by his general demeanour, gait, skin tone, probably older than me; he also sported a conspicuous, considerable head of curly jet black hair. Unmistakable, he was sporting a hairpiece. and few hairpieces are inconspicuous; one of life's little ironies.

I used to visit regularly a Derby pub renowned for its tough Irish clientele. It also boasted a customer whom I suspect sported the worlds most obvious toupee or wig. Ginger in colour, parted down the middle, it sat squarely on his large, presumably bald head, as if it had just fallen from the sky, reminiscent of a furry animal or tropical insect at rest. One could not fail to be drawn, fascinated, to such an unusual adornment. Whereby the large, fierce looking Irishman would look in your direction and you, in turn would focus your eyes over the head of the gentleman in question. And pretend to study a calender, notice or even the wall itself. The joys of toupe ownership; is it worth it?

If I genuinely have over a thousand followers I must surely have: either someone who wears a hair piece or toupe (not counting those worn for medical reasons) or has close connection with someone who wears such an appliance. Or am I being irreverent, as usual and the whole subject is too delicate for words!

Nothing to do with the subject really. But we went in Asda to buy a memory card reader. Reduced to £4, but only on the internet I was informed in the shop. We came out with; a memory card reader, a memory stick, a new keyboard, a computer mouse, a telephone some gluten free food, and, I nearly forgot, a television!