I had my hair cut today. Sadly, I also got conned into letting child number 3 have the day off school through feigned sickness and so she had to come too. Suddenly it becomes less an exercise in self indulgent pampering and more about ensuring that child is kept appropriately occupied. You should have seen her face light up when the hairdresser suggested that she might want to have a go with the scissors. Anyway, that’s another story.

My hair is currently short and getting shorter through a distinct lack of options. I’m two cuts into a new style – always a difficult period. Somehow it never looks quite the same the second time. Maybe its impact wears off or perhaps it’s just easier to cut hair into a new style than to maintain it. Anyway, after a period of twirling in front of the mirror I have concluded that it doesn’t look too bad. Tomorrow, however, will be telling when I try to replicate the “fresh from the salon” look myself.

The style before this one lasted, with various tweaks, about a year as did the one before that. In between new styles, I try to ring the changes with new colour choices or highlighting options because, let’s face it, short hair is a bit dull.

But what does a girl do? Once I had taken the plunge and cut my long flowing tresses off there was no way back. Well, there is, obviously. But that involves going cold turkey through that awful in between stage when your hair has no discernible style and a wide selection of hats are the only way to go.

The last time that I decided to grow it long, I was fast approaching my 40s and felt that it was now or never for long hair. I had some bizarre idea that length was not appropriate on someone beyond 45. I felt it was last chance saloon for long locks. Now that I am 43 I know that to be rot. You can do pretty much whatever you like with your hair no matter what your age.

However, if I am really honest I have to admit that I am a short haired kinda gal. For all that I enjoyed flicking my mane about and fastening it precariously with one clip so that I could let it fall provocatively at an appropriate moment, really it’s not me. And my hair’s not that nice. The parts that aren’t grey are mid brown with red undertones. It’s thick at the back and thin at the front with a tendency to frizz in damp weather and if someone hadn’t invented GHDs I would never even have contemplated letting it grow again.

I suspect that the reason why I think about it so wistfully now is because I know I can’t have it. It’s a bit like babies. You feel sad that that part of your life is over but if someone gave you another chance, you’d run for the hills. I am not prepared to put myself through the pain of getting there again and I know full well that once the length is achieved I will be eyeing up crops in the fashion pages.

So short my hair will stay and I will just have to amuse myself as best I can within those confines. I fancy it pink next time.