I'm not done and I won't be till my head falls off
Update: Still off sick. Not dead. You probably don't want to hear about the side effects of new antidepressants, so I won't, but I'm certainly getting the wild mood swings which has now become officially Not Fun. Every morning I have to take a pill I have to persuade myself that I shouldn't give up on them just yet because it is going to be worth it in the end. Probably.
Enough of that.
Oh and I now have what my hairdresser calls purple, my flat mates call black and I am struggling not to think of as muddy brown hair. Words cannot express my probably totally disproportionate anguish :-( The cut looks OK, but I am seriously wondering whether to get some decent stripes of proper purple or red before Whitby or whether to hide my head in a paper bag.