Hair. Ok, so you go to a salon and you pay for the most expensive hairdresser there is because you want to guarantee you get a quality haircut. Unfortunately some fuckwitted Italian wank featured hairdresser masquerading as a style director at Toni and Guy trashes your hair and you come out feeling more Tracey Emin than Kate Moss, and surely, the whole point of getting an (expensive) haircut is so that you feel at least a little closer to the latter rather than the former.

I am very tempted to go back to the salon and start shouting obscenities in English and Italian and possibly throw the neatly lined up hair products on the shelves in reception around just for fun. Grrrrr.

 So the fantabulous fun and frolicsome Alter Ego closed last week for the summer season to the sounds of Groove Armada and Felix da Housecat... more dancing, more nonsense, more pics...

Rosie dancing...

Yes we like very much...

Dude!

Boy...

Home time...

So I go into school yesterday to teach a lesson... open the door to hear the evil headmistress talking to someone in Italian... she glance over at me as i walk in the door and gives me a funny look and carries on talking. I walk in and see someone I haven't seen for two months. Andrea.

Just to recap for those at the back, Andrea is a boy who happened to be one of my students who i had rather a short lived fling with, ooo, eons ago, back before Christmas. A beeeeyootiful looking student who caused me much distraction during my classes and a whole lot of indecision about what to wear before them. He really did lead la dolce vita... he is or he was what's commonly known round here as a 'figlio di papa', one of the typical veronese boys who runs around in a shiny new car, wears fabulous clothes and is entirely funded by father...

Hmmm. Well, I spose there's a bit of updating to be done. Things all went a bit Annabell Chong with him before christmas after he turned up to meet me one time off his face and we had... well... erm. Let's just say that we didn't really speak after that. That was start of December. He disappeared from my classes shortly after that which I (wrongly) assumed was because of what happened between us. However, I  later found out that the reason was infact because he'd over done the narcs one night and ended up in hospital. Didn't see him for ages, and then he reappeared in one of my classes in February without his usual mohawk, baggy top-of-delicious-bum-showing jeans, and seriously coo-el top. Instead his hair was flat and his clothes - almost geeky. (cept he still managed to look exceptionally fucking fine). Clearly something had changed... his Dad had, I think, said 'no more allowance' and made him clean up his act, get a job, and start behaving like a proper non narc-fuelled grown up. (ew!) He still came to my classes for a while after Christmas and then I think the pressure of working and doing three hours of English classes a week became a bit too much for someone who was more accostomed to a life of dancing, getting high and general dossing. His absence made my lessons with that class a lot less traumatic, (no more pre lesson jitters, no arkwardness about eye-contact and not knowing how i should behave with him)... but a bit short on eye-candy.

So back to yesterday, when I walk into school and see him looking his usual FINE self, mohawk and flash your cash casual kinda clothes back in place. A rather cold "ciao" was all I managed to say to him before shutting myself in a classroom and trying to stop my heart beating so fast. It was clear from the look on the evil headmistress's face that she knew everything. All those times he'd hung around after class to chat to me had clearly not gone unnoticed. So he and the headmistress finish their conversation, he leaves without saying bye to me, I had a lesson, and thought that would be the last I'd be seeing of him before returning to Lonodn. Ohhhhhhh no.

"Where's your timetable..." The headmistress asks me as I'm leaving school, "I've got to add some lessons to it"

Oh no. Oh no really really NO.

"You'll be having a few private lessons with Andrea as of tomorrow." She says.

Fucking Jeusus Christ Noooooo!!! Where am I gonna look? What will I say? What will I WEAR?!?!? And thanks to the hairdresser from hell, I have to teach him with the mop of ming as well. ARgh! Please dear GOD let me not get the shakes... argh argh argh!!! oh god oh god oh god!  Why oh why did I EVER get involved with one of my students???

So I just went back to Toni and Guy after the worst haircut of my life in a bid to get some sort of reasonaby non minging looking haircut. My sister came with me (she's staying at the mo) and the bastard fuckign hairdresser managed to almost reduce both of us to tears. I was shaking and she was so furious at seeing me so upset she even had a go at him... at which point he told her to fuck off.  I have never ever in my life been spoken to in such a manner by someone who i have PAID to do a job no less!!!

The complaints department at Toni and Guy Head Quarters in London will be getting a call first thing Monday morning.

Thus in antidote to the evilness of that experience, my sister, myself, Rosie and another lass will be going to Wally's bar tonight... a place where girls mysteriously never seem to have to pay for drinks... they just seem to appear in front of you out of nowhere... it was also there that I met the evil Diego boy. Did I mention he nearly ran me over last week? I didn't?