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Holi Colour Festival

Danni Menzies |

Sooooo last weekend I had the ULTIMATE hair disaster!

Before I delve into what was a very good lesson learnt, I’ll fill you in on an event you most definitely want to get tickets for when it returns to London in August!

The holi festival of colour was held at the Olympic park in Stratford over two days. Having worked Friday and Saturday, a Sunday session doing something a little different was most definitely appealing.

If you know me at all, you’ll know I bloody love getting my hands dirty. And throwing ridiculous moves!

The idea of being given bags of paint and a licence to throw, well that was enough said, I was in!

We were so excited en route that we jogged past the herds of people embarking on the forty minute walk from station to the festival, and when we finally made it in to the queue we managed to snake our way to the front and make a few friends on the way!

This is what we looked like before it got messy…

We had the most amazing 4 hours of dancing in a wild crowd chucking paint over everything and one. These pictures don’t do it any justice, in the words of Ace Ventura it was just beeuuutiful!


Did I mention it rained?!

The next day was not so beautiful!

After having a shower when I got home and popping my clothes in the wash, I jumped into bed and had a good snooze.

I got my pristine white clothes out of the wash in the morning and was pretty impressed that all the paint had come out.

Not so impressed when I looked in the mirror to put my slap on and saw what looked like a fluorescent rainbow on my head. Well, in my hair to be exact!

I panicked, washed my hair 8 times, used some super strong paint stripper like stuff for hair, so strong my hair started to fall out. Fantastic.

Thank the Lord for my wonderful, wonderful friends at Lockonego on Kings Road for saving the day.

I spent the day with my head in the sink while they applied treatment after bleach after treatment after bleach after… Well you get the idea, it was not an easy job.


The paint did not want to shift!

Two or three inches later, I walked out of the salon looking like a respectable human being again…


Lesson: if you have bleached hair and plan on attending the Holi Fest, wear a bloody shower cap!!!




A Place to Write

Gary Tro |

I’m sat in a coffee shop on Clapham Common, sitting at a small table (plank of wood) in the front window, and I’m writing this (I just don’t want you to picture me casually sat watching the world go by. I’m not. I’m hunched over, sat on a stool that is too tall for my feet to reach the ground and it doesn’t have a foot rest. So I’m just sat, legs dangling, typing).

There’s surprisingly little to see from the window. There’s a payphone (what is this? 1992?) and a very busy road, thick with cars and dense with people. If Clapham Common had a dress code, it would be running shoes, blonde hair up in pony tails and sunglasses. I worry about what would happen to the owners of hair bleach companies should Clapham Common disappear. Most people are casually walking around in exercise gear but, ironically, a few people in business wear are running for buses.

I’ve found myself here as my usual writing haunt is closed today. This is no bad thing as I hate my usual writing haunt. The coffee is expensive, weak and cold. The staff are rude and it’s too busy and too loud, but it is close to where I live, and if there’s one thing Gary Tro appreciates, it’s geographic convenience. So, much like Samwell “One more step and this will be the furthest I’ve ever been from the Shire”. I’ve set off in search of pastures new and found myself here.

Even though most of it is behind me, I can tell that the coffee shop is very hip. For a start, they sat me at a table and brought me a menu, and also it clearly caters predominately to the young and beautiful. It has beautiful people serving beautiful coffee and cakes to beautiful customers. I can only assume they put me in the window to show diversity:


I’m happy to promote such a worthy cause.

There’s a bench outside, and backed onto, the window I’m sat at. A very well put together gent sits, video calling what I can only assume is his boyfriend, an equally well-put together gent. As the man is sat with his back to me, I can see that I would be appearing on his partner’s screen in the background. I can’t work out what the funniest thing to do with this new-found possibility of onscreen time! I think about waving. I think about writing a sign that says “LET’S GET MARRIED!”…. bollocks. Too late. He just left.

It’s hard to find a place to go to write. It needs to have atmosphere but not be too busy. It needs to be inspiring but not distracting. It needs to be comfortable but not too relaxing.

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