I’m a red-head now. Believe it or not. Yes, my raven-haired locks now boast hints of copper red to match my fiery temper and nobody has noticed! I spent two sore hours sitting in the salon, flicking through crap magazines and not one person has noticed – not even my mother.  Well I think Ivan, the ‘colour technician’ has done a marvellous job even when I had difficulty understanding half the things he said. I think he’s from South America. He asked if my hair was its natural colour (eh?) and if I used colour shampoos (I don’t) and then looked impressed. I suppose in his line of work it is virtually impossible to come across clientele with their natural hair colour. I still found his questions a bit funny, though.

Oh yes, the manager was also there. I’ve mentioned him before – he’s a hottie but I’m too afraid to ask him to cut my hair. He did come over and do his friendly-salon-chit-chat crap while I kept looking at his arse. Because it was ALWAYS in my eye-line, OK? It couldn’t be helped.

The manager recommended one of his stylists after my last one disappeared and he’s very good so I’m sticking with him. Since my last cut, my hairdresser has been promoted to “senior stylist”, which fills me with confidence but not my purse. Oh dear. Well you can’t beat the feeling of a good haircut – trust me, things have got that bad that I can only really be satisfied that way. Oh God, that came out all wrong, didn’t it?

Last Thursday the MOBO Awards took place in London, celebrating the best music of black origin and this year was its 10th anniversary. Our Mojo has been involved with producing the official MOBO magazine and she got an invite to the prestigious ceremony held at the Royal Albert Hall and in true diva-like fashion, she didn’t go. She couldn’t be bothered. You go, girl!

From what I gather, the MOBO lot couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery. I mean, the awards took place in South Kensington, and there were two after-show parties – one in Leicester Square and the other in Hammersmith. Clearly someone with poor geographical skills of the London A to Z was hired to arrange these events, leaving a lot of party-goers wondering how they would be able to get from one place to the other as conveniently as possible. The MOBOs – that’s got to be the most politically incorrect award ceremony, hasn’t it?

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