How to choose a Hairdresser
It is wet, cold and foggy here in Beautiful Rutland; another day of the wet weather walks that are so very boring. Anything would do to stop the monotony. I know that I am due a visit to the hairdresser, the amount of time spent under the brush tells me this. I do enjoy my long haired persona, although I do attract mud, brambles, thistles and such detritus (a lovely word to describe such objectionable material), in large amounts whilst waltzing around my fields. She had cancelled my usual visit to the Stalag, because of the cold weather. May the cold weather continue indefinitely; I hate visits to the hairdresser. (She loves to go to the hairdresser; in fact I think she would live there if she could.) She gives strict instructions as to what and how I am coiffured; she says that it is important as one would not wish to have the lot chopped off, when one only wanted a trim so to speak.
It is a sad fact that hair takes a long time to grow and a hairdresser can make you cry for weeks if your haircut is not to your taste. In my case she has been known to bring me home and wield the scissors herself, after I have already spent hours being done. Needless to say I have not darkened the door of that establishment again. Where I am taken at the moment is she says, ‘Par excellence.’ At Stalag Rutland Water they know exactly how a cocker spaniel should look, I must admit the results are always very chic. So rule number one about hairdressers is; do your research, go to the best that you can afford, ask around. The second rule is always to ask how much they are going to take off, get them to show you. Then you both know exactly where you are. If they intend to take too much off say so quickly. I know from experience, there is a real possibility you could look appalling for weeks. She is always very sure how much of my lovely coat they will be taking off. Is she a Fuss Pot? Yes, she is, but she is invariably a Fuss Pot who has me looking good, as my portrait displays. You would be surprised to know that she interferes with how his hair is cut too, well perhaps you wouldn’t. I think Dear Reader you already understand I live with a control freak.
I am of course
La Grande Sophie