I look such a sight when my hair gets this long. It hangs around my face and annoys me, it looks straggly and unkempt, and adds another ten years to my age. There isn't much artificial colour left in it, the sun tends to bleach it, leaving the roots a little darker than the rest of it. I can't decide whether to colour it again, I'll think about it, maybe do it on a whim when I fancy a change.
Anyway, it's time for a haircut, I go to the Back Door Salon to get this done, it costs me nothing. My hairdresser is a whiz with a brush and a pair of dressmaking scissors.