Blonde Moments..

I cancelled my hair appointment today.
I can feel the reverberations of concern as I write. You are beginning to worry that this amateurish diarist, self-styled blogger is scooping the detritus (Gotcha! you thought I was going to say poop..) of daily drearisome detail.
Well, no. This is indeed a Significant Moment.
Not because  my nicely-healing bunion wound has suddenly developed stigmata.
But rather that I have almost decided to go blonde. Can you believe it?
No? Well, I do understand I am dropping a blonde bombshell here.

You alone are privy to my intent, so this is indeed headline news. So Mum's the word and all that.
You're asking me, naturally, why the cancelled appointment?
Cold feet, darlings ( that not even these glorious sheepskin mules can warm). Bit nervous.

Just supposing Dearest, in the somewhat unlikely event, decided to do the same thing? (Spooky or what? Bear with...) And he didn't give me any warning.. Turns up one day wearing that nice tartan scarf I bought him for Christmas (yes, and the rest of his normal clothes, I didn't mean he was just wearing the tartan scarf.. Really, you are sticklers for detail.) and bright blond, looking a dead ringer for Rod Stewart. He's never recovered from being told by his school choirmaster that he had a voice like "crackling cornflakes" so blow me down, he'd be the real deal. Where would that leave me?
Well, I'd be flabbergasted that's what.  But we all know, this is purely unfettered imagination, and it is not what's holding me back.
I have for a while been contemplating going red, or brunette as we  used to say back in the day
(when some of us also referred to kitchenettes) but think that emergent grey roots would be a tiresome distraction now that I am retired and have time enough to be bothered by such close attention to detail.
So blonde it has to be... like Boris or Donald? Isn't it fascinating that Boris Johnson, Mayor of London or Donald Trump campaigning for the Republican nomination are both sporting unabashed dyed blonde hair? No, don't try telling me it's natural- in either case.
Supposing I ended up looking like Boris or Donald? Not a good look. I have to confess it's slowing me down.
I want to be bold, try something different (my lovely late mother is whispering in my ear: how about Italian lessons?). It will be a sociological experiment at best : will I get served faster at the bar because I am blonde? I would, of course, have to start going to pubs to try this one out. Or would it be, at worst, a temporary, easily remediable (expensive) fiasco?
My fear is that when I sit down in two weeks time and speak to my Colour technician in the salon mirror, I will say,
"A pint of the usual brown, Jodie", and my hair will remain its ultra natural colour of brown ale with leetle gold highlights...