‘Do you want to come through, love?’

‘Oh great! I might leave on time.‘ I thought as I got up and followed the hairdresser to my assigned seat. I had cancelled and postponed my already-overdue appointment for months as I couldn’t find the time for it so I was bracing myself for the gentle scolding I was going to receive.

‘Erm… it has been a while, I can’t remember the last time we saw you!’

‘Yes, I wasn’t really able to find the time…’

‘So we’ll definitely need to do the usual, it is so long! And shall we try a balayage? We talked about it last time.’

‘Erm… I don’t know. I don’t really have much time and…’

‘It won’t take more time and I just think your style is currently a bit boring. It’s on sale too!’

‘OK… go on then! As long as it is subtle.’ I said, not really caring enough to keep the conversation going.

‘Excellent! I’ll go mix your colour.’ Said the visibly delighted hairdresser.

My reluctance to try something new in the hair department is mainly due to the time it takes. Grandma is on water pills to evacuate the excess fluid in her body as she’s in heart failure, this means she needs to go to the loo more often but can’t go by herself. If I time it correctly, I can leave the house for about two or three hours at a time, maximum. This salon is conveniently close but takes a notoriously long time as they’re busy and understaffed so instead of relaxing, I’m constantly worrying about the time my appointment will take.

As the hairdresser had started on time, I was hopeful this would continue. Unfortunately, half the village seemed to have booked their complicated-sounding hair appointments 30 minutes after mine so the balayage plan was considerably slowed down. For the next two and a half hours, my hair was coloured and I was moved from my seat, to the wash basin and back again with long periods of waiting in between. My anxiety bubble growing bigger and bigger inside my chest. Finally, my hair was coloured, cut, and blow dried. The hairdresser then took the straighteners out which I had to decline – my allocated time outside of the house was running out.

I rushed back home arriving just in time to find grandma trying to get out of her chair by herself. Very dangerous as she’s 100, blind, with very little balance.

My hair was already up in a ponytail and I hadn’t even bothered to have a look at the difference the balayage made.

I share this experience, one that many carers will be familiar with, to show the restrictions imposed upon us. This is why I can’t see friends or go into the office. Leaving the house is becoming more and more difficult and not worth the effort for the most part. I keep doing it so I don’t become a full recluse and keep some connection to the outside world, even if it means being called boring and having goop put in my hair from time to time.

For the record, I am boring and I’m happy to have a hairstyle that matches my personality!