Wrote an entire post, faffed around for an age and then found out that it failed entirely. Let’s try again…
What do you do when the weather is supposed to be straight from the frozen wastes of hell? (That’s not rhetorical!)
Turns out that I put on a series of impractical clothes, and then chuck my cloak on over the top of it. Wrong choice, honestly. My outfit looked great and I felt good, but then the weather gods decided not to rain on my parade and instead I was greeted by big blue skies and sunshine. Beautiful weather, but totally the wrong atmospheric circumstances for me not to turn into a sweat beast by the time I’d run to university (running late like normal!) and so I got many funny looks too.
My cloak is a thing of beauty, but I hate wearing it on hot days. Luckily it also imbued me with the overwhelming urge to strap a belt to my hip and stride off into the countryside during a montage of close ups of puddles being splashed by my booted feet and my cloak swirling and billowing, replete with brooding shots. That would have made today a day worth living!
Sadly I left the sword at home because I don’t think many normal people would have appreciated a girl with a hunk of steel and an attitude 😀 Back story: Hairy owns a replica of Aragorn’s ranger sword and it’s currently sat downstairs. For my birthday, I went to the pub with a group of friends but they all failed and turned up late, thus spoiling my plan to swoosh in and look fantastic. Last minute change of plans resulted in me sitting in the corner of the pub, hood drawn up over my face, with a pint. I felt like I was channelling the very spirit of a Ranger; plus I felt ABSOLUTELY EXPLETIVE AMAZING like that. It was extraordinarily cool, no joke.
This night, here be some of the friends. We fit five into the cloak with space for more.
I miss this hair:
It wasn’t a sensible decision or a sensible colour, but I loved it. It was impractical, silly and the most beautiful colour I’ve ever seen on my head. I miss having hair that long – now it only just grazes shoulder length because the ends needed lopping off but I still regret it! It would have taken so much time and effort to keep it up; the roots would need re-bleaching and re-dyeing every month and I’d be hoping fervently that the colour would come out about the same. I’ve been dyeing my hair since my first tentative dabble into purple hair dye at the tender age of 14 and ever since it’s been a way of expressing myself and who I am. The turquoise made me feel like me; now I just feel in the middle because it’s in the horrible “I’m growing out and am a technicolour mess” stage. *Sigh*
I also miss my hair in these shapes and shades!
Kent, long and reddish on Dover cliffs. Plus I’m in my dungarees 😀
Date with Hairy to Matlock Bath for a wander around. The hair dye is supposedly black with blue hints. Blue tinge my bum!
Attempting model-dom! Such ginger hair! It felt in such good condition because I was using henna and a tonne of conditioner. This was taken at York.
Absolutely flipping terrifying in negative apparently! First thing in the morning, no make up and tousled. I miss that hair!
Bright, dark blue hair with some roots coming through 🙂 I think I even have daisies threaded into my bunches… First holiday in a tent for Hairy and me 😀 Oops, I tell a fib. Not daisies, actually it’s sprigs of gypsophila that I rescued from the tractor.