My hairdresser has broken her hand.

Girls go: "Oh my God! How can you survive? Are you on valium? This is a tragedy. How will you cope?"

Boys go: "aw". I might add here my hairdresser is seriously gorgeous. Boys go "AWWWWWW!!!!!" *Better*

Today I let someone else cut my hair. It cost me £16 more because he own the flamin' salon and yes, it's all right and everything, even though Nibs thinks I look like a "schoolboy in mascara", but I miss her. Man; not the same. Chat; not the same. Cut; not the same.

I can't believe she's been that clumsy *says she who fainted into a door and still has slight bump over left brow*. But Nina fell really badly and squished knuckles and stuff apparently. Poor lamb. She's had two operations.

Get better (back) soon, Nina, and please be better by November 15 or I'll have no hair for Christmas! (Unless Santa sends me a wig!)

BIG kiss better XX