My daughter Sarah has long straight blonde hair, when she was a child she wanted it cut short, like her sister, so we went to the hairdresser. Hannah always had a sort of pageboy cut, she didn't like clips and stuff and she didn't like hair in her face, and was never that vain. Also, and I am sure Hannah won't mind me saying this, her hair was really very fine, straight and of a non-discript colour. Sarahs' hair was of a different order, thick, golden blonde with natural light streaks. It's still that way now. Sarah was insisting that she had a haircut, even when the hairdresser looked as if she was going to burst into tears as the tresses hit the floor. It was a sad day for everyone except Sarah. She loved it. But she has never been back to the hairdressers since, fringes have come and gone down the years, and I just trim it a bit if it starts to get to straggly. Every morning I brush it, put it in a pony tail and plait it. It is part of Sarah's routine and I have done it for years.
On Monday afternoon the day centre bus bought her home as usual, but instead of our usual Sarah coming through the door was a Sarah with curled hair! She was so pleased with herself I had to take a photo, the one above. If you knew Sarah, you would know that a photo like this is a rare and wonderful thing. I'll post a few other photo's of Sarah soon and you'll see what I mean.