As soon as I learn how to say ‘Sweet Jesus, sort me out!!!’ Im heading out to have my hair done. After the hideous shock of my passport photos yesterday (currantly lying ripped into a million little pieces in a bin in Bagnolet) I feel I can’t broach the perfieries of Paris city until I sort myself out.

I wonder would I feel it this keenly in Ireland or is the famous Paris influence kicking in? Certainly as I ducked from shadow to shadow through the 1st yesterday evening, I didn’t notice anyone elses roots looking so hideous and believe me, I was looking!

So until I sport a full head of highlighted hair I am going to confine my wanderings to the suburbs, filled with similiarly slobby multi-nationals, where hopefully I can pass off the state of my head as a cultural thing.