Although a press photographer didn’t show up to document the hair dye process, as originally intended, I did manage to secure an article in that very same local newspaper – The Evening Express – about the event. It was in yesterday’s edition, which marked my first publication in quite some time… but that’s really another story for another time!
I had a telephone interview with a lovely journalist there called Donna, who fleshed out the details of the write-up with me. She was very easy to speak to, and made the whole process extremely simple. Hopefully the added publicity will be good for a few more donations. If not, and this is the end of the charity drive, I have still managed to grab over £1,000 in less than a month, and I’m happy with that number.
Over two weeks on, and the hair has settled in to a rather striking shade of baby pink, with both the peroxide and my natural colour showing beneath it in varying degrees of strength depending on which part of my head you’re looking at. I really don’t notice it anymore, and at least it covers up the growing number of grey straggles I have for a while.
I’ll find a quiet moment and talk to The Girlfriend©… maybe she’ll let me keep it.
So, the transformation is complete and I am now sporting a rather fetching pink mop of hair.
I had contacted the local newspaper and was assured that a photographer would be down to document the event, however it appears that something more important than my little charity drive turned up.
It’s a shame because I’m sure the extra publicity would have generated some more money, but the good news is that the total is currently just a fraction below £1000, thanks to a great effort last night at work, where the event took place.
And The Girlfriend© is happy because she gets to sleep with three different versions of me in the space of four days!
With over £600 raised for Breast Cancer Care so far, I took to the makeshift salon in the kitchen last night and allowed The Girlfriend© to bleach my hair in preparation for going pink tomorrow.
Having done it before I was ready for it to sting and make my scalp itchy, but I had forgotten just how damn sexy I looked as a blond!
If you want to throw the charity some money, and you can afford to do so, please go here:
In October 2011 I dyed my hair pink for charity, and seven years later, (after an off the cuff remark at work) I find myself about to do the same thing. Then, I raised £1100 so this time around the target is a little bit higher. You know, inflation and all that jazz.
So if you fancy throwing a few pounds or dollars or whichever currency you are using, my way, head on over here and click a few buttons. It is very much appreciated.
A couple of days ago I received an email from a subscriber who was disappointed that I haven’t updated my page for a while. Well, she’s not the only one! I promise I’ll be back on this train soon.
My excuse (and it really is an excuse, rather than a reason) is that last month was all about me moving home – from my small one-bedroomed flat, to a much larger four-bedroomed house. The Girlfriend© and I had been looking around for somewhere to share for a number of months, and after seeing a few and putting offers in for a couple of them, we found this place. It came with a roof and four walls, but beyond that the onus is, well… on us, to provide everything else.
It’s taking a bit of time and effort, but it’s a fresh start for me at a time when a fresh start is exactly what I needed.
Finally, the light is very bright at the end of the corridor.
My friend Steven was over from Canada for a flying visit last weekend. I’ve known him for half of my life, and the last time I saw him was here, over three and a half years ago. We have not kept in touch as often as we probably should have, but that’s more my fault than it is his. Still, it’s good to know that with some friends you can just fall back into your relationship no matter how long it has been dormant.
Over a lovely Italian meal and some adult beverages we caught each other up on where our lives are currently and – as most friends our age do – spent some time reminiscing about the old times as well. If nothing else, what the conversation did show me, was that I am in a much better place emotionally than I was in 2014, and that can only be a good thing.
Unfortunately I have not made the trip to North Bay to visit him in the near decade since he has been overseas, but with the promise of free accommodation should I ever pitch up on his doorstep, the temptation is always there.
Hope you had a safe trip back, buddy.
My personal life is (finally) great, and after a long time in the wilderness, I have a job that I actually enjoy and that doesn’t expect my soul in return for my payslip every month. The only point of this triangle currently amiss is my writing.
This year started off with promise. I finished Slipwater – a novel I am extremely proud of – and it has been sitting with a number of agents since early February, but since that feeling of accomplishment I have not done much to maintain the momentum. A short story here, a revision or two there, but that’s about it.
Well that stops today.
I received another rejection letter this morning. I’ve been getting them for over half my life now. No big deal: that’s just part of the constant struggle for acceptance… and I don’t only mean acceptance of a particular story, but also the wider definition of every writer’s desire to have his or her words heard, and for them to mean something to someone.
But this rejection is one too many, so I need to pull my fingers out of my ass and put them on the keys again.
You know, obviously I’ll wash them first.