August 27, 2014

Yes yes, you read it right. My hair caught on fire recently. For anyone who knows me they know I am not a big fan of fire. I can’t start a lighter, I don’t like to get hot things out of the oven and I hate fireworks. Anything fire related is persona non grata in my world. I went to a clairvoyant once and she informed that it was because I was a witch in a previous life and was burned at the stake and I’ve never recovered. Fair enough then. Seemed a reasonable explanation at the time.

So back to my ordeal. Since my move to Melbourne I’ve bonded with the fabulous Colette Werden who has become my partner in crime. Miss Colette had been kindly offered a trip for two to Ballarat to stay at the Comfort Inn and attend a Light Show showcasing the history of the gold rush in Ballarat. I’d never been to Ballarat previously so thought, great, count me in! Colette picked me up on the Saturday and we headed off on our very exciting road trip!

The eye before the storm. Us arriving. I am behind the camera so you can’t see me.


We arrived and proceeded to partake in a couple of drinks and discuss the complexities of life. We were so engrossed we almost missed dinner! There was a strict schedule upon which dinner was served (it’s the country folks, it’s all about the cows) and we were on the verge of missing our sitting. Off we went to indulge in some country fare. I think I had roast. It was very hearty.

Then off to the Light Show we went. I was lucky the drinks I’d had earlier were keeping me warm as it was FREEZZZZIIINNNNGGG!!! We sat, walked and trained our way through the next two hours of the history of the gold rush in Ballarat. In all honesty, I almost fell asleep. There were lots of weird lights and pre-recorded voices which were a little reminiscent of a high school history lesson. Anyway, we persevered! Mainly because we had to get a train back to Basecamp and couldn’t walk. Finally we boarded the train and make our way back to our room.

Of course by then I was stir crazy and HAD to go out! In highsight if I’d just gone to bed like a good girl, I would still have all my hair in tact. Anyway, off we went. We caught Ballarat’s only taxi into this AMAZING wine bar called Lydiard Wine Bar. Upon arriving the hostess offered to take our coats! Yes! I am not lying! The service was fabulous. Our drinks came post haste and we were off and racing!

I think this is the Lydiard Wine Bar. Google said so and I believe Google.
Lydiard Wine BarImage taken from

After my champagne, I was in dire need of the toilet. Off I trotted to find the ladies. I found the toilets and they were set up slightly differently. There was a wall of toilets with mirrors and basins and anyone could enter. I found a vacant one and in I went. I fiddled with the lock for a while as it simply wouldn’t do what it was meant to and bloody well lock. I was busting by this stage and thought, well, I need to go so not wetting my pants has to take precedence. I locked the door as best I could and sat down to get busy.

I should’ve known better. Unisex toilets. Ridic.

Unisex toilets

Of course, mid way through the door handle started to turn and I bolted off the seat with my pants around my ankles and lunged towards the door. I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast in my life! The door had already opened by then and some guy with a pink shirt on had managed to stick his head in and catch me in all my glory. I am not sure who was more embarrassed. His face or his shirt. They were both pink. The look on his face was priceless. Deer in the headlights. Bless him. He mumbled some apology and with head down he quickly pulled the door shut. I was then able to finish what I was trying to do, fix my hair (it was still in tact at this point) and return to the table with what was left of my dignity.

I informed my new favourite hostess in the world about what had just transpired in the toilets and she responded by pouring me a free glass of champagne. Bless her. She had just taken on girl crush status for me by this point. EXACTLY what would help me forget the ordeal. More alcohol.

By this time I had my dancing shoes on and was ready to PARRTTTAAAYYYY!!! We asked our hostess about our options and she made a couple of suggestions. Off we trotted around the corner and ended up at the scene of the crime. Jacksons & Co. We headed to the rooftop bar as all very important people visiting from out of town would do. We bought a drink. The Manager struck up a conversation and learned we were visiting from out of town. The drinks became free. Score!

Dum da-dum,da-dum…the scene of the crime!

Bench Seat

We toddled off towards the back area to find a bench seat available. Refer to image. On the top of the bench seats, clearly invisible to the naked eye, were lit candles. I didn’t see said candles. All I saw were spare seats in an otherwise packed bar! I made a bee line and headed over. One would think, that because I wear glasses, I wouldn’t miss something as obvious as a candle. Four eyes are clearly not better than two!

The offending candle looked like the below!


We sat down and proceeded to enjoy the free drink we had been offered. It was then things became hairy. All of a sudden, from out of the crowd, a random woman started running towards me screeching “your hair is on fire, your hair is on fire” and started smacking me on the back of the head with both hands. Colette calmly checked out the back of my head and said “Oh you are too” and also started patting the back of my head. Like a poodle. By this time the whole bar was only too well aware my hair had caught on fire. The Manager was notified and he came over to remove the offending candle. By this time I had started to take on the very strong smell of pork crackling. I LOVE the smell of pork crackling. I rallied!

The Manager asked what would make me feel better. I said “Well given I’ve just lost 6 years of hair growth, a bottle of champagne would do the trick”. He bought over two vodka and lemonade’s. Yes. That apparently is what my hair, not to mention my identity was worth. I was unimpressed. I threatened to sue and left in a blaze of glory. Literally.

Upon arriving back in Melbourne I booked into see my trusty hairdresser Geoff from Parlour Hair on Chapel St. I relayed my tale of woe and he almost wet his pants. He thought it was hilarious. He then proceeded to regale all his other clients with my story as they came and went for the afternoon. Hi-larious Geoff.

He proved himself useful and took a before and after photo of my hair. Please see the damage to my self-esteem in these images. Me so sad.

IMG_0678 IMG_0682

But then Geoff did SUCH an amazing job with my hair that I am now in love with my new do! I have since been back and gone much blonder and am really loving the new colour. I was a bit startled at first as it was soooo blonde but now I am used to it and have embraced the new me.

The new me!


It took me a while to get to this point though. Around six weeks in fact. I LOVE my hair. I identify through my hair. It had taken me many years of growing it to get it to the length I was happy with and in less than six seconds my efforts went up in puff of smoke. Perhaps I was too attached and this was the universe’s way of saying, you’re going to end up with a strained neck with all that hair on your head. Let’s lighten the load.

Thanks universe!

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