I am not coherent.
I started this blog post about eighteen times, trying to make it dynamic, exciting, about something else.
Instead It has turned into one of those: I got up, I brushed my teeth, diary entries from my childhood.
It cannot be helped. I am parched of brain.
This is because I went to the cinema last night to watch the Old Vic filming of The Crucible, starring Richard Armitage. It was quite amazing, but I had forgotten how powerful the play is, and consequently how upsetting.
That, combined with being hideously over tired by the time I got home at half twelve, meant that I could not sleep for ages. Then, when I did, I had nightmare after nightmare, and woke myself up constantly.
I had to get up early to let both Oscar and Tallulah’s school know they wouldn’t be in today, and wave poor Tilly off into the light of a new dawn.
Then I collapsed on the sofa and dozed, in between shepherding poorly children around.
My brother took over the afternoon shift while I went and had my hair empinkened. It is magenta with silver grey streaks in it. The grey next to the pink actually makes the grey look lilac. I am alright with that. I look like an elderly version of Stephanie from Lazy Town.
It will not last. I will fade like an aged bird of paradise over the next few weeks, but I am very happy with it at the moment.
I should be, considering it took four hours of hard work at the coal face of hair technology to do this. The poor hairdresser probably had to shut up shop and go and have a lie down after I left.