Sunday, April 3, 2016


Pre dawn call, I was so frazzled they sent me right away to hair and makeup. A woman in curlers at the far end of the trailer was chapping a worker. My hairdresser said: Don't look, don't talk, she doesn't like it if anyone talks. We conspiratorially whispered in code as my hairdresser attempted to tame my unruly mop. The woman stalked to my end of the trailer, and sat down next to me. She looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't quite place her. She glared at me in the mirror and told me to move down a seat as I was in her line of vision. I stared at her point-blank. If looks could turn one to stone. She either needed morning coffee, or was already in character. The hairdressers took it all in stride and carried on as if there was nothing amiss with stars wobbling in rarefied orbits.


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