I got up this morning exhausted and stiff. Glancing into the mirror I didn’t recognise the old matron who stared back at me. I stopped and examined my worn-out look in greater detail – manky, overgrown hair, eyebrows resembling my garden bedding (desperately in need of a good weeding) and lots of laughter lines collecting around my eyes and lips. Trying to look on the brighter side of life I thought ‘I can do something about two of those things.’

So I reluctantly forfeited a swim in the outdoor pool to go for a desperately needed haircut. It was one of those rare moments when Graham was at home and both of the girls had gone down for an afternoon nap. I got on the phone to find out if a hairdresser had a slot at short notice. And the first one I contacted did! The phone was answered at Steven Burgin (Hospital Street) by a wonderful lady with a gorgeous Scottish accent who said all the right things and was very pleasant – for me, a real breath of fresh air. So many receptionists I have spoken to recently have been almost rude – certainly they couldn’t care less about what I wanted – without naming names, a certain town centre source of information – you know who you are…

Uma Thurman, eat your heart out

And my visit provided me with a fine example of fantastic service, which strangely seems so hard to come by these days. On entering, I was immediately acknowledged by Steven himself, was brought a very welcome tray of Earl Grey (with biscuit) I had a brief consultation with Steven whose face lit up as he quickly concluded exactly what cut would suit my face and mood. I enjoyed a super duper head massage from lovely Olivia and I thoroughly enjoyed each stage of my hair cut (the loss of my long locks made easier with a sneaky glass of red wine) which were peppered with various exclamations such as ‘I have a neck!’ (me) ‘How different do I look with a fringe!’ (me) ‘I need a new wardrobe’ (me) ‘From mum to model’ (Steven) I had to agree with the last comment, the style sliced years off me, was a little bit naughty and above all made me smile.

I flounced out of the salon with a beautiful bob, a classic style once synonymous with promiscuous flappers in the 1920s.

Did you know, the first ‘bob’ cut was invented in 1909 by Parisian hairdresser Antoine de Paris, whose inspiration was Joan of Arc. Its arrival in America in the 1920s sparked controversy, which reached fever pitch when preachers declared: ‘A bobbed woman is a disgraced woman.’ A handful of American men even went as far as divorcing their wives on their return home with their new cut!