It's 7.10am on a cold winter's morning and I am standing at the bottom of my stairs, staring intently into the hallway mirror. The wind sounds like a speeding train as it tries to force its way around the edges of each window with a malevolent low hum, and I shudder with dread at the thought of going to work in this weather yet again.
A burning smell enters my nostrils. I continue to stare into the mirror whilst at the same time picking up the hot tool that lies ready on the carpet. As I put the GHD's to my head, the satisfying aroma of unruly hair burning into submission fills the air in the hallway- no doubt it also wafts up the stairs and into the nostrils of my sleeping partner as he still tosses and turns in bed.
I happily continue my silent early morning ritual, when an almighty crash comes from the neighbours' kitchen next door. And not for the first time, I think wearily, running a comb through my fringe and waiting for the show to start.
His voice is a low growl that shoots down the stairs with heavy footsteps, into the kitchen where she slams the door again, obviously trying to keep him out. All I want to do is bang my fist hard on the wall at them, but the walls between us are hard plaster so I would only break my hand. She yelps, squeals and bangs some more, I spritz some glossing spray into my palm and smooth it over my crown. I'm totally unconvinced this hairstyle is even going to last the walk to the bus stop this morning. As they continue, it crosses my mind that they have a small child, a toddler and another on the way.
I exhale heavily, switch off my straightening irons and check the time on my mobile. Suddenly both voices through the wall change pitch, and I hear her whiney wail as it weaves through the downstairs rooms, away from me then closer again, followed by his intent growl as they stomp back into the kitchen. She lets out a screech and I hear a baby start to cry. Not upstairs but in the kitchen, through the wall, in her arms.
I adjust my coat, my scarf, I grab my keys, I shake my head. I tell myself that in 12 hours time they will be back to normal, as they always are. As I open the front door the howling wind greets me like an over-excited friend, relieved to finally find it's way inside. Walking past the neighbours kitchen window I can't hear anything over the noise of the wind. Besides, my hair is now all over my face, so I can't see a thing.
A burning smell enters my nostrils. I continue to stare into the mirror whilst at the same time picking up the hot tool that lies ready on the carpet. As I put the GHD's to my head, the satisfying aroma of unruly hair burning into submission fills the air in the hallway- no doubt it also wafts up the stairs and into the nostrils of my sleeping partner as he still tosses and turns in bed.
I happily continue my silent early morning ritual, when an almighty crash comes from the neighbours' kitchen next door. And not for the first time, I think wearily, running a comb through my fringe and waiting for the show to start.
His voice is a low growl that shoots down the stairs with heavy footsteps, into the kitchen where she slams the door again, obviously trying to keep him out. All I want to do is bang my fist hard on the wall at them, but the walls between us are hard plaster so I would only break my hand. She yelps, squeals and bangs some more, I spritz some glossing spray into my palm and smooth it over my crown. I'm totally unconvinced this hairstyle is even going to last the walk to the bus stop this morning. As they continue, it crosses my mind that they have a small child, a toddler and another on the way.
I exhale heavily, switch off my straightening irons and check the time on my mobile. Suddenly both voices through the wall change pitch, and I hear her whiney wail as it weaves through the downstairs rooms, away from me then closer again, followed by his intent growl as they stomp back into the kitchen. She lets out a screech and I hear a baby start to cry. Not upstairs but in the kitchen, through the wall, in her arms.
I adjust my coat, my scarf, I grab my keys, I shake my head. I tell myself that in 12 hours time they will be back to normal, as they always are. As I open the front door the howling wind greets me like an over-excited friend, relieved to finally find it's way inside. Walking past the neighbours kitchen window I can't hear anything over the noise of the wind. Besides, my hair is now all over my face, so I can't see a thing.
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