First thing: I phone my hair stylist, Bernice, and my podiatrist, Aaron.
One thing I won't stint on are my extremities. I've had enough experience with really bad haircuts to know that if I pay peanuts I will get a monkey-head. So I go to this lovely old house in St. John's and let Bernice work her magic on my multi-coloured hair (since you ask, grey, brown, streaks of blonde and a titch of red). She has never, ever pushed colouring or products on me and is a perfectionist when it comes to cutting.
And yes, Aaron takes care of my feet. He's from the Channel Islands and does a fine job on my tootsies.
'Tis a fine thing indeed to stroll around the city under a perfect 'do, knowing your feet can take you anywhere without complaining.
