Friday night

Towards the end of the working day, when I was the only one left in the office, my boss's son Hugo dropped in. I explained to him what I was doing and how I was hoping I wouldn't have to wash my hair any more after this 7 week period. He just said "it won't work". No one had ever had that reaction before and I have to say I don't think I had ever really contemplated outright failure. It made me feel QUITE worried.

After work I went down to the Southbank Centre to see some jazz and some friends. Sam told me my hair smelt like his dad's, which is frankly offensive to his dad. And Maddy said when she first saw me she thought I was ill. She's right- with so much dark, dull, stringy hair round my face I look utterly rough, and even more pale than usual. I have been considering fake tan but the idea of applying more greasy substances to the head area does not feel like a wise plan.

I also told my little sisters about the lack of hair washing. One of them, Lils, wrote back: "literally the funniest thing I have ever seen. 'lils, lils, do it with me. i promise you will look great, your hair will be so full and wavey!'.......EVIDENTLY NOT SISTER HOOD!!" So supportive. It is true though I did try to recruit her to the project but she is much too vain, as are most sane people.

Not a very informative photo but Ruby and I have the same cardigan and I have a penchant for matching stuff. Although now I think about it, it might not have been the best idea to set myself beside so much conditioned, celestial blonde-ness.