Before I write this post, I have to show you a mullet-and-a-half from our Australian cousins. I only know about this thanks to Razzbuffnik, who sent me the link:
Free-Alcohol-Blogger (F.A.B.) and I met last night at Marcello’s, an unpretentious hair salon in Red Lion Street in Holborn. We were greeted with complimentary glasses of Buck’s Fizz (another notch on the Free-Alcohol tally), shampooed, chopped and blow-dried into much tidier selves. Unfortunately, Cathy-Jog-Blog wasn’t able to join us as she wasn’t feeling strong enough for a haircut. This isn’t surprising given her recent expedition to hang out in cold and rainy Cornwall with some donkeys and cows who apparently didn’t seem too people-literate.
The cut was a success AND a bargain at £29.00. I didn’t think you could get a haircut in London for £29.00 anymore. Thankfully there were no Sheena Easton moments and I now look more than ever like my avatar, apart from the fact that I do not walk around with a constant wink, contrary to blogosphere belief.
With our newly-groomed tresses, F.A.B. and I went to celebrate with a glass of wine at Truckles, a wine bar hidden away in a courtyard near the British Museum. There we were joined by two of her university pals, Kevin and Leo, who taught me a lot on my personal quest for geek-dom, such as why 3-mobile is the best mobile phone provider (I need further convincing on that one) and how you can get free access to WiFi when you travel through signing up to Fon. The chaps also told us how much they pay for their haircuts: Kevin £7.00 and Leo £8.00. Why oh why is it so darned expensive to be female?
Although Truckles was a good place to take respite from frantic Friday-night London, we were asked to leave at 10pm because the neighbouring residents apparently complain about noise from the bar after a certain bed-time-for-the-boring. We can’t understand why the neighbours don’t just use the courtyard as their front room and hang out down there on the fine days when such places are so popular in London. I mean, why buy a flat that overlooks a wine bar courtyard if you’re going to object to some evening chatter? That’s what I’d call a very silly move indeed.