Last week I liked...

Silk scarves - perfect spring staple for the almost perfect lady

Stockings - for a bit of a thrill when you have to get dressed for work on a grey February day

Coaches - cheapest and sometimes cheerful way to travel for a weekend of fun in London

Good hair day

I am not a groomed person. I love clothes and making an effort to look nice but those little extra details are beyond me. I'm talking manicures, pedicures, professional waxing, blow-dried hair, fake tan... I've had a manicure once in my life, on the beach on Vietnam (not a great idea as it turns out; sand, intense heat and freshly painted nails don't really mix).

I can see why it might feel good to make that added effort to be immaculately turned out, but I'm the kind of person who sees putting on some eyeliner as pushing the cosmetic boat out, and I have to accept that. 

So it won't come as much surprise fore readers to learn that I'm not a regular at the hair salon. Getting my hair cut is very low down on my list of pleasurable ways to spend an hour. I hate having to sit in front of a mirror for a long period of time, and I hate having to make awkward chit chat over my shoulder. 

But most of all I hate being made to take responsibility for my hair and trying to answer that awful question: "So, what are we doing today?" I don't know what we're doing today, or any day. My hair is thick, curly and terminally unbiddable. I want the stylist to tell me what to do with it. If they can't, then we're really screwed. 

I usually mutter something about just wanting a trim and a few layers, before they cut, dry and straighten it into ramrod submission. Which is all very well, but I don't have the patience or the skill to style it at home, so after the first wash it always springs back into a slightly more shaped version of the mop it was before I sat down in that chair. 

I then put off the next visit for as long as I possibly can before trying somewhere else. I've lost count of the number of salons I've visited over the years. This is partly because I keep moving but also because I can't bear going back to the same place, only to have the same conversation with the same person all over again, with the same results.

I was at this point again when a friend metioned that she'd been into Altered Image on Alma Vale Road and how friendly they seemed. It's seconds from where I work and I was getting to one of those stages where I had more split ends than actual hair.

So I popped in to make an apppointment. Darrell, one half of the couple who run and own the salon, chided me for leaving it so long since my last cut. But he made me laugh at the same time, and told me that Vince would be doing my hair because he was an expert with curls. I instantly felt at ease and cautiously optimistic.

When I went back for the actual cut it was just me, Vince and Darrell in the salon. Usually that would be my worst nightmare as all the focus was on me and my hair, but they were so friendly, relaxed and funny that I sat down to have my hair washed and didn't stop gossiping until I left about 45 minutes later.

When Vince asked what I wanted done I mumbled my usual vague suggestions. Miraculously, he actually seemed to understand me and my hair and, realising that I simply wanted him to make it look as good as possible without takling too much off or drastically changing it, he gently took over.

I completely trusted him and it is a measure of his success that, while I used almost always to shove my hair up in a top knot, I now wear it down much more often. This may not sound like much of an achievement but believe me, with my unruly mane, it really is. As my boyfriend put it when he saw me for the first time after the cut, my hair finally "makes sense".

I've been back twice since and now I wouldn't go anywhere else. I never thought I'd be the kind of girl who had "my" hairdresser. But Vince and Darrell are not only great stylists, they're also brilliant company. They've even offered me advice on how to trick my boyfriend into marrying me (it wasn't very practical so I probably won't be acting on it, but I appreciated the thought).

I don't think I'll ever look forward to going to the hairdressers - there's still that sitting in front of the mirror thing - but now when I do have to go, I actually rather enjoy it.

Overheard

Just a little snippet of a post but while waiting to pay at the Holland and Barrett in Clifton Down shopping centre today I heard the following conversation:

First woman: "Oh yes. I swear by linseed. It's great, it's done wonders for me."
Second woman: "Really?"
First woman: "Yes, it's so good for you. Really, really good for you."
Second woman: "In what way?"
First woman: "It's an anti-oxidant. No, wait, it's not an anti-oxidant. It's.. I can't remember what it does. But it's really healthy. It's one of these miracle foods."
Second woman: "Oooh, I'll have to get some."

Brilliant stuff. And Holland and Barrett are laughing all the way to the bank.

Last week I liked...

 Daffodils, for heralding spring, and sunshine and warmth

 Ballet shoes for keeping my feet warm and pretty

And Boots cold cream for its old-fashioned jar and super-cleansing properties

Sewing therapy

Although my last post may suggest otherwise, I didn't spent the entire weekend moping. As well as a nice trip out to the countryside I also got my sewing machine out again to run up another homemade gift. This time, a clutch bag for a friend who's moving abroad. I made it using a layering and cutting technique I've just learned at my sewing class, and which I might now be a little bit addicted to. 
The colours haven't come out in photos as pretty as they are in real life, and it's not quite finished, but here are a couple of snaps.

I also discovered the wonderful Creativity shop, on Worrall Road, Clifton.. When I say discovered, I'd known it was there for ages but for some reason assumed it was quite small and wouldn't have half of what I needed. I was wrong. My problem was trying to stick to what I needed and not get carried away in a frenzy of bead and button shopping. Lovely, helpful staff too. I'll definitely be going back soon.

Big questions and the Big Smoke

Sometimes life seems like one long struggle and this has been one of those weeks. I've been going through a period where I feel dissatisfied with everything, and as though I'm somehow failing at making a success of my life. 

This time that feeling has been focused on my career and I've found myself wondering if I'm going in the right direction and, if I'm not, what I can do to change that. 

Inevitably when I start thinking this way I begin wondering if I should be moving to London. Although I was brought up there I have no particular desire to live in the capital - unlike many of my friends who flocked there as soon as they grauated, I headed in the opposite direction.

But in the past few weeks I've been keeping my eye on media jobs - not so much for myself as for my boyfriend who is looking to move to Bristol. And the vast majority of relevant vacancies are in London. 

That there are more jobs in London than Bristol (or elsewhere in the country for that matter) doesn't come as a surprise of course. But reading the jobs pages is a depressing reminder of why many people feel that, if they really want to "make it", they have to move to the Big Smoke. 

Which got me thinking about what I need in order to feel that I've "made it", and what success even is. In the mood I've been in in the past week those were very difficult questions to be asking myself, and ones that I will have to leave for another blog post to attempt exploring.

What I do know is that I want to live in Bristol, but I also want to live with my boyfriend,  so we need to be somewhere he can work too. And, although I have a good job at the moment, at some point I will want to move on. So I was wondering if we were being idealistic about trying to have it all - the lifestyle and the careers. 

And then I picked up a copy of Bristol Property Live. I know it sounds like an unlikely place to find inspiration,and that wasn't why I started reading it (I wasn't reading it as a potential house-buyer either, sadly.) But a feature on Mike Bennett, Bristol's place-making director, caught my eye. 

As the article observed, it's a rubbish job title. But Bennett's role is to promote Bristol as an exciting, vibrant place to come and live and work. 

As part of the initiative he and his team have come up with 50 ideas to invigorate the city. 

Sure, many of them will never see the light of day, but just reading the list of suggestions, such as a Slow Sunday anti-rat race movement, or summer music sessions, made me feel excited about living here again. 

It reminded me that Bristol is alive with creativity and innovation, which is what makes it so desirable as a place to live and work. OK, the sheer volume of jobs in London may mean it's often the safest, most obvious place to pursue a career. But who wants to be safe and obvious?

It may be that little bit harder to find the ideal job here but I've decided to take that as a challenge, and to see it as a an opportunity, in the spirit of Bristol, to create something even better than those London folk can imagine.

 

Teabags and poached eggs

Yesterday was my and the boyfriend's two year anniversary. Sadly, like most Monday evenings since we got together, we spent it apart. Since he lives even deeper in the Westcountry than I do we can usually only see each other at the weekends. 
I did feel a little sorry for myself, but we had spent the weekend together and exchanged presents so I couldn't complain too much. 
My bank account is still groaning slightly after the pressure Christmas put it under. Luckily, I got a sewing machine for Christmas (from the BF actually) so I thought I'd whip him up a little something.
My skills are still limited, but I had learned how to make a lavender bag at the lessons I went to before Christmas. I'd discussed this with the BF, who said he would like one to hang in his wardrobe, but wouldn't want it to be lavender scented. His reason? He was worried it might make him sleepy while he was getting dressed... How do you argue with a mind that works like that?
So I had to think a bit creatively about what to stuff the bag with. I settled on lemon and ginger tea. It might sound strange, but I figured that tea leaves are the same kind of consistency as dried lavender. And lemon and ginger should be suitably invigorating. 
I couldn't find loose herbal tea anywhere (does anyone know where you can get it from?) so I ended up buying teabags and laboriously emptying them out before feeding the tea into the bag I'd sewn. That's love. But then again, I think I'd have to go a long way to find another man to whom I could present something made, essentially, of a cut up old shirt and some tea-bags and know he'd understand what it represented.
I did take a picture which I'd planned to upload here but I'm having technical difficulties. Hopefully it will follow at a later date. 
And last night, to celebrate our two years together, I made myself two poached eggs with the egg poacher he'd given me as an anniversary present. And I loved every mouthful.