As if going to the hairdressers wasn't torture enough, today surpassed my expectations. The music in hairdressers varies quite alot. Today when I got there they had some kind of instrumental jazz thing going on in the background. Quite inoffensive and easy to block out. But while I was having my hair dried someone obviously changed the cd...
The hairdresser switched off the hairdryer and I was suddenly listening to Simply Red. Loud. And it wasn't a single. Oh no. It was the whole album.
It was all I could do not to go, "Thanks that looks great, must dash!", with half my head looking lovely and half a bit shit and run out of the shop as fast as I could. Do hairdressers know no boundaries?
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