Hestia ....gets a Brazilian

No, not something that leaves my nethers looking like this:

Nor have I managed to wangle myself one of these:

I have no idea, I just googled 'hot brazilian men' and up he popped.

One can dream.

No, the Brazilian that I have finally got for myself is a BRAZILIAN BLOWDRY!!!!

Tartarus was initially concerned that I was going to come home from the hairdressers with a 1" wide strip of hair down the middle of my skull.  *sigh* MEN *shrugs*.

A Brazilian Blowdry involved sitting in the hairdressers for FOUR hours while a lovely Russian girl painstakingly painted my hair with keratin stuff and straightened it until it was straighter than a New England clergyman's soul.

I was then tasked with keeping my hair straight for the next four days - no hairbands, no tucking it behind my ears.  Nothing.  

For the next four days I remained indoors, keeping away from rain, wind and anything that might cause my hair to kink in rebellion.  I looked like a ghost.  But one with swooshy hair!!!!

Tuesday morning, I returned to the hairdressers to have it all washed off.  The Russian girl didn't say much and I suspected that my coarse, kinked hair may have been too much for the treatment.  'Is it curly?' I whispered.  'A bit.' she whispered back.

And secretly, in the heart of myself, I rejoiced that my hair would not be beaten by chemicals and hung onto its sense of myself for grim death.  

I eventually looked at myself in the mirror.  Well, it was curly, but it wasn't my usual CURLY.

And then she dried it with her fingers - a technique guaranteed to send me into cotton wool puff hair hell......and lo, it stayed normal looking.  I was encouraged.

The hairdresser then flicked her straighteners over me.  It went poker straight in minutes.  From entering the salon, washing/conditioning, drying and straightening - 45 minutes.  A world record for me!

Since then, I have barely had to draw my own straighteners through it and we're now at Sunday and it looks like this:

I should have brushed it before the photo, but you get the idea.

It's not poker straight, but I don't want it poker straight.  I want it to look natural and slightly waved.  The condition of my hair is lovely and I cannot tell you how delighted I am to have swooshy hair with minimal work from myself.  It is definitely something to consider if you're going a holiday and don't want to humph loads of hair stuff with you - maybe for the party season too!

But the moment of truth will be when I wash and dry it myself!  Watch this space!

don't forget to enter the T&M Hestia Bean Competition!!!!

Hestia...has a T&M competition!

A perfectly formed Hestia

Relax.

T&M isn't a 21st century version of S&M.

Or even M&S.

Although if you're a keen gardener, there's no denying that their catalogues do offer the finest gardening porn you can get your hands on without incurring the wrath of the Church or social services.

T&M are, of course, Thompson & Morgan, experts in the garden since 1855.

I was chatting with Ania and Viv about stuff last week and Ania pointed out that there was a little bean available called Hestia.  I was suddenly struck by inspiration and jotted off a missive (well, a facebook message anyway) to the good folks at T&M.....would they like to help me with a little competition?

Reader, even when I sent them links to some of my outstanding gardening failures such as this, this, or this they still kept smiling and promised to post me some packets of lovely little Hestia!

Hestia ...is in mourning weeds

Last known photo of sexually confused Hamster, Nibbles

This is a blog post that I have dreaded writing.

No, no one has mistakenly eaten Kevin (my ancient pain au chocolat) and died a gruesome fusty-chocolate-related death.

No, our beloved Nibbles has moved on to that great hamster wheel in the sky.

She had been getting fatter and fatter in the past couple of months and I suspected that all was not well inside Nibbles, but she was a happy little rodent - swinging on the bars of her cage, patiently trying to escape at every opportunity.

On Wednesday we found her sleeping at the bottom of her cage, not in her bed.  I thought she was dead, but apparently Sonshine checked and left us this missive, to ensure that we didn't tip her into the swing bin by mistake.

Hestia and the Great Sock Disaster of 2012

Tartarus has been cleaning. As only he knows how.  I smile supportively and retire to a dark corner with Ian Rankin and just keep my hands and feet away from the hoover.

He decided to change the bed.  Which was due.  So I helped excavate the duvet from within its cover and I decided that his pillow was too manky to be put back on the bed (what DOES he exhale?!) and put the pillow in for a wash.

Reader, there then followed a DISASTER.  Evidence Exhibit 1:

These were, not 4 hours ago, a pair of pale green, hand-knitted size 5 cashmere bed socks owned and loved by yours truly. Now they wouldn't fit a toddler thanks to the inadvertent felting process that they underwent when Tartarus attempted to wash his pillow this morning at what must have been a 'boil' setting.

He is truly apologetic and has even offered to buy me another pair of bed socks.  He even proffered a pair of his never-rotting merchant navy socks which were hastily deposited back in his sock drawer as I reached for the gleaming new kitchen knife.

However, before you get up in arms, dear reader, at my unreasonableness - be assured that he is still stab-free.  And out buying me a Belgian Bun for smoko :-)

*busies herself looking for hand-knitted cashmere socks on Etsy*