Where a forest of trees once stood, there is a strange phenomenon occurring. There is now a forest of mushrooms instead. This shot was taken along a path where there were big trees until a few weeks ago, when they were all chopped down. I noticed today that in there place are now gazillions of mushrooms. I don’t know what sort but I know it’s true!

There is only the most tenuous of links between the photo and what I want to say today. It’s basically a story about hairdressers.

I want to know where women like me are supposed to get their hair cut. I can’t believe I’m alone in feeling that they just don’t cater for ‘us’, in other words people like me!

After a few ‘hair butchery’ moments in Cornwall, I decided that I’d use my ‘lonely nights’ in London to get my hair done at a top quality salon, which I’ve done the last twice I’ve had my hair done. In some senses this is a great option because they do cater for ‘busy lives’ and there are at least two close to my office that are open until 8pm every day so I can go to get my hair cut after I’ve finished at the office for the day. All cool so far.

The young chap who has done my hair on both occasions has been charming and is clearly very good – though I suspect he probably already despairs of me because I turned up today ten weeks after my last cut looking a lot like a shaggy dog…!!!

The crunch comes in the salon itself. You see, it’s designed to appeal to twenty-somethings who love that awful (my Mum will crease up at this) thumpy thumpy music that the young are so fond of. The magazines in the rack are ‘Hello’ ‘Cosmo’ ‘New Woman’ and ‘Hair Now’ – to be honest, the sort of mag that makes me go cold! The hairdressers and their ‘staff’ are all about 20 and stick thin. The lighting is harsh and unflattering unless you’re 20 and have perfect skin.

I sit in the chair and my middle aged, tired face stares woefully out of the glitzy mirror and all I want to do is get the hell out of there, preferably without looking in the mirror!

What I’d like is somewhere that is not ‘blue rinse and perm brigade’ but caters for a more mature customer without making me feel intimidated. I’d like to feel that the person in the next chair to me is a peer rather than young enough to be my child and to have some nice ‘lounge music’ – Frank Sinatra or Dusty Springfield. I’d like to feel as though I can look up and see myself as something other than a dinosaur. I do readily accept that the last paragraph makes me a completely sad old git but as I've said before - warts'n'all!

So, to come to my tenuous link – I feel like a mushroom, I’d like to be in the gloom, I’d grow and thrive but I’m forced into the glare of the spotlight whenever I go into a hairdresser where I shrivel and shrink.

I wonder whether any budding salon owners will work out the needs of ‘someone like me’ anytime before I finally succumb to the blue rinse?

I think I can safely say that the only pad photo ever by anyone to feature sanitary towels was my shot last year! I'm not at all sure that the fact is anything to be proud of but it's a fact!