My hair is naturally blonde. My hairdresser works hard to make sure it stays that way. And while I do my fair share of dumb things, I don’t like to refer to them as blonde moments. On behalf of all my fair-haired brothers and sisters out there, welcome to my world of brunette moments.
I’ll start off with a London one. Some years back, my husband and I came over to the UK and Europe for a three month holiday. We had planned it to be longer and a working holiday, but it ended up being three months. Holiday? Yes. Working? Not so much.
Our time in England was spent with my husband’s best friend from school. He took us around and about, and we spent plenty of time in London, seeing shows and sight-seeing and enjoying the outrageously vibrant city that was nothing like we’d experienced before. Our friend would tell us to close our mouths, as our Africa-shaped jaws kept hanging open. We usually walked a few paces behind him, looking about and soaking everything in. We were two little nosy puppies, looking about and following him everywhere.
On one of our visits into London, the scene was as I describe above: our friend striding ahead with local confidence, our following behind trying not to stare at everything and everyone. He turned around to say something to us but we didn’t catch what he said. When he turned to go down some stairs, we thought he had been letting us know we were going to the tube station. We followed him down the stairs and I couldn’t figure out why people coming up the stairs were looking at me strangely. Maybe we looked well forrin; that’s what I put it down to.
We got to the bottom of the stairs, and I thought it didn’t look like a typical tube station. As I took in the view ahead, I thought, “Oh wow, they even have little seats for you to sit on while you wait for the tube. Those are funny-looking, low, round, porcelain ….” and then all the blood drained from my head as I realised we had followed him to the gents’ loo. Those stairs led nowhere else. No wonder I’d had those looks. I ran up to the pavement in one leap and had to fan the life back into my lungs … I was so embarrassed I thought I was going to faint.
Another brunette moment happened some years ago BC (before children). Our phone rang one Saturday morning at 7am. That hour doesn’t exist before you have children. As is usually the case, my husband plays dead and then asks me who was on the phone. I’m sure plenty of you can relate. I jumped out of bed and answered the phone.
“Hello, can I speak to Sarah please?”
“Sorry, you must have the wrong number.”
“Is that not 88…….?”
“Yes. You have the right number but the wrong person.”
I am sure that caller still scratches his head, wondering what on earth I meant. Me too.
In one of my previous jobs, I had an allocated parking space in a central city parkade. I got to know my parking neighbours quite soon and we would always wave hello to each other. One morning, I was getting out of my car as my neighbour drove into his parking. We waved and smiled at each other, and he drove his car into the wall. Gently, but loudly.
My less-than-gracious thought was, “What a dork! I can only imagine how embarrassed he feels.”
And off I went to carry on with my day.
The very next morning, he was locking his car as I arrived and pulled into my parking space. We waved and smiled at each other and I drove my car into the wall. Gently, but loudly. Karma can be a b***h.
I’d love to hear about your differently-coloured-hair moments – we’re all friends here, remember?
Sunshine signing off for today.