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It isn't easy being blonde!

6/13/2015

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Last night I watched
Gentleman Prefer Blondes on Foxtel. I’d viewed it in my youth. It must have made an impact because I bleached my hair the very next day. 

Being a bottle blonde was never a cause for concern until I started work on a sheep and cattle station in the Australian Outback. You see fresh water was far too precious for showering. Bad hair days loomed large. That in itself was bad enough but my hair is of the fine, wispy variety. Already bleached to within an inch of its life, I was sure I’d be bald inside a month unless I came up with a solution fast.
 

Now I’m nothing if not inventive. So when the boss’s wife presented me with a litre bottle, kindly advising me to fill it from the rainwater tank in case I needed a drink during the night ~ I had my solution.  To me soft and silky honey blonde hair was adequate compensation for going thirsty.


 All was well ... until one day I noticed a miniature ceramic frog on a groove in the corrugated iron from which the bathroom was constructed.  When I went to pick it up, you guessed correctly ... it jumped.  I wasn’t perturbed it was tiny and rather cute. However, it grew and so did its brothers and sisters. Huge ugly brown frogs took over the bathroom. I found them in the sink, poking head-first out the drain outlet, staring up at me from the toilet pan.    

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YUK!!
 But that wasn’t my only problem. The shower water seemed to take forever to drain away. By the end of the week  I was standing in a permanent puddle. Kermit and his friends were in their element! Now, though I write about kick-butt heroines, I'm not one. But faced with those eyes, I discovered my backbone.  The following day the boss got to work re-routing the leach drain.

It was a big job, but when the workmen began filling in the ditch, I concluded the end was in sight. 
Feeling hopeful, l collected my toiletries, including my contraband water. Not wanting anyone to discover my guilty secret, I wrapped the bottle inside my towel.  Imagine how I felt when as I stood chatting the bottle slipped out. It ended up in the ditch, right at the boss’s feet.

In a life of embarrassing incidents that one ranks high!

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    Author

    ANN MASSEY, was born in 1945 and grew up in the harsh environment of a council estate in the industrial north of England. Brought up on stories of the bleak living  conditions in Lancashire before World War 11, her new book SALVATION JANE grapples with the emergence of the working poor in  Australia.  Ann lives in Perth , Western Australia.

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