Money matters

Me and my bank card have just had a very depressing 12 hours, I don't know how we'd cope if we didn't have each other. 


Yesterday I made the hugely miserable mistake of working out how much money I have spent since arriving back at uni, and I'm pretty sure I could buy Miley Cyrus' whole head of hair with the amount I've spent. Then today I queued for an hour and a half only to spend £274 on a bus pass, there are so many more exciting things that Reiss could have given to me for that money. And to further upset our harmonious relationship, my debit card decides to spend £45 in Tesco. Fabulous.

(This is literally what all clothes look like to me at the moment, a huge pile of cash that I can't afford.)

I spent the entire last few weeks trying to define the difference between what I wanted and what I needed. And, with the help of my student loan, these lines became very blurred. I WANT to go out every night and get completely, lying down in the gutter, licking ketchup off my oceana hot dog, plastered but this will cost me greatly, however it is essential that I maintain my Bristol friend ships and settle in accordingly so there fore I actually NEED to go out for my social benefits. 


Money really does matter. Especially now that you live alone and have to unfortunately pay for everything and more, IE when you stupidly decide to bring your ridiculous bunny, tootles, to university and he decides to chew threw the telephone wire and you have pay for a new one. It's not just yourself you're responsible for but your bunny too! No wonder your bank account is crying.

(Tootles the bunny, he's a menace)

Student loan= automatic debt. Even before you spend anything you amount this great loan that you have to eventually pay back. So knowing you already owe thousands of pounds is it not just worth saying 'f*ck it, yes I will have that enormously practical sequined crop top' I mean its bound to come in extremely handy and if you're in debt before you begin why not make it worse?  But following this theory there are gonna be times when your bank account is looking more pathetic than a hungover Tony Blair and you feel like you could really do with a job.


Gazing blankly at gum tree where the only jobs available are after hours toilet cleaning in Iceland (the supermarket not the country, Christ what a commute that would be), I cant help but feel like its more trouble than its worth.And I'm feeling like I'd rather be broke wearing last seasons clothes than be a little in the green wearing this seasons Iceland uniform. I do have one extremely lucky friend who always manages to scoop a reasonably decent job and she's always very good at them (which she got to hear all about because she works behind a bar and I had a few apple sourz in the system.)

(not feeling like this man is having total job satisfaction)

But even having a lovely jolly well paid job behind the bar (I'm being quite presumptuous here because I've only heard about her 1st shift whilst being quite merry), it still comes with many further costs and stresses. Whilst shopping for the ever exciting black uniform for her work, I was virtually risking life and limb as freshers flu had bought my normally very perky friend to grinding snotty halt. I thought that if we had asked her to try on a pair of black boots one more time she might actually hurl them at a shop assistant.


So after ruling getting a job out as a money solution, I got to thinking about what if I only got what I really needed, if I scrapped all my nonsense justifications for buying £80 dresses and taking out £30 for a night out. What if I just got all the necessities, after all the Beetles (and my duvet cover) dictate that 'love is all you need.' I tried this theory but in between being single, watching titanic and my house mates being home all weekend I wasn't exactly feeling the love and I'm afraid that something will have to replace that and that something is low fat Tesco rice pudding and jaeger bombs which cost money.

(equally important messages, gonna tuck myself up in love tonight.)

So after a very expensive freshers, re-freshers, de-stale week I have not really learnt anything other than this, there are times in life when you have to spend money and some times a lovely hug from the person you love most just wont cut it and the only way to go is a huge night out and chips and gravy at the end. Amen.

The hair bear bunch

I'm getting that September style feeling. You know just before you go back to uni/school/college and you haven't seen anyone (well you're not a recluse but you get the picture) for 6 weeks or longer and you want to prove you've not fallen into an ugly hole over the summer? In fact you want to do quite the opposite, you completely re-vamp and work extremely hard on your image so that when all of your acquaintances see you they are so stunned by your looks that you have miraculously developed over the summer that they assume that you must have always looked like that and they are only noticing it now. And you play it all down by saying things like 'what this old thing?' and 'I thought my hair looked dreadful today?' And everyone remarks on what a lovely modest young lady you are.


Now the classic short cut to achieving this new season rebirth is a hair cut, a bit off the shoulders, a mop chop, because, lets face it, if you've got bad hair people avoid you. No one wants to run their fingers through a scrubbing brush. It is a tragedy that this required cut has to happen in September, the one month when rain is almost guaranteed and your GHDs become better company than your boyfriend. In fact the more I think about it the whole experience is extremely stressful. I remember my brother requiring a 'my first hair cut' book, to ease him through the experience.

(not totally reassured by the fact the man holding the razor has his eyes shut)

When it comes to hair the whole world is captivated. Even as little kids we are hounded with stories about terrifying hair situations. Rapunzel was locked away in a tower in fear of someone stealing her hair that could heal wounds (referring to Disney's recent film Tangled, if you've not seen it its worth a watch!) And the tale of Melisande whose hair never stopped growing and to stop it strangling her in her sleep had it cut daily, which going by Tulisa's £250  a day price tag is bound to make anyone cry. Even my dad, whose aging pony tail is not the most stylish job, watches in fascination as Davina, Claudia and Penelope swish their locks and whisper 'because we're worth it.'

(Keri Katona's clip in extensions)

One of the most frightening prospects that come with hair cuts is the idea of choosing what to have done. Over the summer I have come across countless dilemmas about hair. It's not like a new outfit, you can't just return it if it goes wrong. My ex flat mate had a constant ongoing battle with her hair. Trying to embrace the change she died her hair, which had been bleach blonde for years, to bright red and, despite every ones oohs and aahs, instantly hated it and it has taken her the best part of 6 months trying to get it back to her original colour and she's still not there, Sainsbury's should write her a check for the amount of hair dyes she helped them sell.


Does this mean that we should, as Sharpay Evans once said, stick to what we know, stick to the status quo rather than brave new ventures? I know a collection of people who have lived by the same hair cut for years and it hasn't done them wrong, I can't imagine one particularly northern friend of mine without a fringe, or my father without a pony tail for that matter. So what does it take to make the first incision?


Sat in the hair dressers you are bombarded with millions of questions, 'should I cut it off?', 'fringe or no fringe?', it's very easy to become a yes man when with a hair dresser as I recently discovered at my latest hair appointment, I found myself saying 'yes I love Dorothy Perkins and yes I hate Lady Gaga', neither of which are true, just to avoid awkward conversation. There was one occasion when I really did go a bit mad.

(My pick of some of the worst kinda up-doos, mind some are pretty clever! wish I could get my hair to look more like a vehicle of flight.)

On holiday in Brighton I asked the hair dresser to suggest a hair style he said asymmetric and lose the fringe, unsure I said we'd proceed with even hair and then decide at the end. But this hair dresser was cunning and after cleverly fueling me with free wine I let him cut my hair into a wonky bob. It actually looked decent but I could never find anyone who could recreate it like Hoolio could, or maybe it was Havier?


So yes hair cuts are traumatic but they also necessary. Your hair is probably one of the first things people will notice about you, my mum recently told me I looked more approachable with my new doo. Charming. The important thing is that it's your body and your hair should be reflective of you not what Loreal wants you to be. I also tend to find that Hair dressers, being hair dressers, tend to be good at cutting hair and they won't make you look like an idiot.


All the same I went for my old fringe again, it means I don't have to pluck my eyebrows as often, whilst simultaneously gulping down Holland and Barret hair vitamins to try and get myself some Rapunzel hair for some gorgeous prince to climb up.