Blonds Have More Fun

I had a thought. Maybe my character on stage should be blond. Seeing as he's a nazi sympathiser, and his job is to legally defend nazi war criminals, and he's got the pathological hatred of jews and communists wrapped up in precise clipped tones and classical education, and he's even got the creepy voice and spooky spectacles...maybe he should have the hair too.

So I've got a blob of evil smelling blue peroxide gunk sitting behind my ear to test for adverse skin reaction, and the accoutrements of hair coluring arranged in the bathroom.

My own hair is fairly coarse dark brown, inherited from mother, and when she tried to go blond in her youth, it came out bright carroty red. So if the same thing happens to me, the next post will be called

Orange Alert!

and I'll appear on stage bald.

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I'm not the only thing fading away. I'm leaving a pair of never-worn jeans in the sink, soaking in bleached water for the next few days while I'm away.

The reason they're never worn is, in a moment of wild optimism, I spent £3 on a pair two sizes too small, thinking I'd diet my way into them. This...didn't happen. But if I ever do get thin, there'll be a nice pair of sexy slim white jeans waiting for me.

Unless the bleach is too much and they fall apart first.

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STOP PRESS! Both performances are completely sold out. So we're going for a third. Brilliant!

Now I really do have to learn my lines. Oh dear.

There probably won't be any internet access while I'm slumming in London, so I don't think I'll get to post for the next few days. So to my various readers - Kamakura, Adversarial, Foxy Trot, Piggy & Tazzy, MJ and others...I'll see you after the show.