I’m not sure I could be bothered will all of this all of the time but it’s good to know as I too love the crisp perfection of hotel beds. It’s also well worth reading the comments after this article for yet more hints from readers.
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I did something rad this morning – I washed my hair without shampoo. That’s right, I was ‘poo-less’. I read that a solution of bicarbonate of soda (1 tablespoon in 1 cup of water) would work well and be kinder to the hair and even though it sounds dodgy, I reasoned that we do know that sodium bicarbonate has a reputation for dissolving grease and grime and neutralising odours. So, purely in the interests of science, I gave it a go.
I wet my hair then gently rubbed the solution into my scalp (because that’s the bit that gets the most dirty – well, obviously)! There is, of course no lather so I was a bit skeptical. (Here’s an interesting, but relevant aside: Did you know that manufacturers actually put a bubble-making agent into washing-up liquid? It’s pretty much unnecessary but market research has shown that we consumers didn’t trust the liquid to work without those bubbles. Humans …such simple creatures).
Anyhoo, I left the bicarb solution in my hair for a few minutes whilst I got on with washing my bod and then I rinsed my hair. I was genuinely surprised at how much styling gunk came out – impressive. I finished by conditioning the ends with a solution of 1 tablespoon of cider vinegar to 1 cup of water. Leave for a minute, then rinse.
All very New Age. All very Hippy Dippy Mother Earth and importantly, good for the body and good for the environment. No sodium lauryl sulphate [SLS] – which makes those highly desired bubbles. (Whether or not you believe the links between SLS and cancer, this substance does seem to commonly cause scalp irritation so may actually be causing or contributing to your dandruff, if you have it).
So what’s the verdict on today’s experiment?
Surprisingly, my hair doesn’t look half bad. It appears pretty clean and is less fly-away than usual. I’m not converted yet however because the poo gives a nice smell and there is, of course, no perfume in this simple bicarb mix. BUT, maybe I can remedy that with a herbal rinse – rosemary water is good for red/brunette hair.
As my hair is less fly-away, this suggests that some oil still remains. In all fairness that makes for a healthier scalp, but will it mean that my hair needs washing more often than the every 2-3 days it gets now? If that’s the case, I’d be using the curling tongs more often – bad news for luscious locks and more time-consuming in the styling department. (Make no mistake, styling my hair is a given if I want to avoid looking like I’ve just been connected up to the electrical supply).
So there we are – an interesting experiment. We’ll see how it pans out over the next few days.
Anyone had any experience with this poo-less life? How did you get on?
This article also appears at my other WordPress site.
For the first time in months, this weekend my husband and I have nothing that we have to be doing. This morning we did our usual weekend recce over breakfast, discussing what must be done over the next two days and both felt as if we’re somehow forgetting something vital. We’re not. Our time is our own. In my head the tumbleweed is rolling across the open prairies and you know what? It’s a nice feeling.
I have this theory that constantly being idle is actually bad for the spirit. On the other hand I can confirm that constantly having something to do is equally bad. I’m glad that we can get back to the happy medium. Today will be the normality of a trip to the pet supply shop for cat bics and blob, followed by, who knows? Maybe a trip to the beach for a ‘Mr Whippy’ from the ice cream van. Ah…normality. I like normality.
I had the most wonderful day yesterday. The sun had returned, our kittens were let loose on the world (well, the garden anyway), doors and windows to the house were consequently flung wide open, allowing a gentle Summer breeze to drift through our house for the first time in weeks, and my brother was visiting the island for the first time in 6 years. It was as if the planets had re-aligned and all good things were heading my way.
We went out to dinner as a big family group last night and sat by the restaurant window, allowing us to watch the sun sinking into the sea way beyond the lighthouse. On the way home there was a big fireworks display going on above the town and as we drove along the bay I got a free view of it all.
I think I must have done something good in a former life, to now live the life that I do and in such a beautiful place.
I have to tell you, we don’t have any motorways here, just one section of dual carriageway on the outskirts of town on which the speed limit is 40 m.p.h. As we headed towards town, nearing 10 o’clock at night, we spotted a man on a bicycle – no lights – riding the wrong way on the other side of the dual carriageway (with cars heading towards him). I suspect his day may not have worked out as well as mine in the end.
The Lighthouse – not last night when the sea was almost calm, but on a crisp day in May.
Continuing my occasional series in the spirit of ‘full-disclosure’ here (well, as full as it’s going to get), here is an edited- for- privacy version of what is being recorded in my diary here at home:
S asked me recently for the recipe I used to do for Tomato and Lentil Dahl with Toasted Almonds. I found one – but it was definitely not the one so loved of this family. This morning I looked again through my collection of recipe books and found the Real McCoy – hence the link to my recipe pages. I haven’t done this for ages and as it made my mouth water just typing it up, I think maybe I should do it again.
I keep meaning to get back to ‘real cooking’ but in the last few weeks I’ve struggled with the emotions of living in a seriously stirred house and it’s making me feel inordinately tired, not to mention fed up. The book that this recipe came from is a heavy tome, under-used by me, and so well worth dipping into again. When our visitors this week have been and gone, the carpeting guys have been and gone for the umpteenth and final time, and the house has some semblance of order again, I think I’ll try a few more of these vegetarian recipes.
No. This is not funny. We worked for most of the day again on clearing the dining room – carefully sorting, wrapping and packing away precious pieces. I’m knackered and more than a little overwhelmed. We virtually have no space to move things to now and it’s pretty depressing.
We can’t go on like this so I’ve come up with a strategy:
- I’m hiring the largest skip (dumpster) available and we’re having a massive garage clearout.
- I will phone the carpet guys and delay the fitting of the final room (my study) by another two weeks – giving us a month to prepare between the last two rooms.
- I will try to research lockable storage cabinets for the (newly tidied) garage….cabinets in which to store some of the precious bits from my parents’ house that have so broken the back of our usual Feng Shui calm and simplicity.
I want calm restored to this house.
I want to be free of tradesmen.
I want to, once again, freely access all areas of my home (which means spending time ‘acclimatising’ the kittens to the big wide world outside).
I want to, once again, have a thoroughly clean home (which means dealing with all of the above).
I want to go on holiday and lie quietly in the sun (frustratingly, we have to wait some weeks yet for that).
By the way, just to illustrate the tone of today, having only just finished packing away stuff in the dining room and feeling pooped and emotionally strung out, we came through to find that one of the cats had puked on our bed …. on our brand new Yves Delorme sheets.
Yesterday I worked my way, only semi-methodically, through tidying. I was tidying the usual house clutter, but also tidying paperwork and finding homes for the stuff that has been left, washed up like flotsam and jetsam by recent house renovations, all the while being mindful of two very young cats that are extremely bored and therefore into and onto everything. In all honesty it’s overwhelming and it’s too easy when a task seems so monumental to drift hither and thither actually achieving very little at all.
Today I’m trying a different tactic. I’m following perceived wisdom and tackling one area, sticking with it and not being distracted (even by cats). I’ve chosen my target and I’m going in now. Wish me luck. I may be gone some time.
Pelican at dusk, Naples, Florida
OK, I think we’ve established already that I suffer from an acute case of internetus paranoiacus and so don’t readily offer up too much information about myself here, meaning that I rarely describe my personal life. However, for the sake of full disclosure, here is the first in a short series on ‘A day in the life…’. Sit back and prepare to be riveted.
Tuesday, 7th July
I cleaned the utility room today – which is truly wonderful for me, given the pigging mess that it was in, but hardly interesting for anyone else. Here’s a question for you though:
How does cat food end up sprayed up the walls?
I’ll leave you to ponder on that.
I also tidied up the garage a bit. The kittens think that spending their days in a cardboard favella is phenomenal. Me less so. So much stuff has been ordered and bought by family members lately that we have sturdy cardboard packages coming out of our ears and whilst I can’t flatten it, because it’s clearly the strongest cardboard known to mankind, I reasoned that stacking it one inside the other would at least free up a six-inch path to the up-n-over door. (Always handy).
Apropos of the newly stacked cardboard boxes in the garage, another one arrived at lunch time – one containing the little white bedside table I’d ordered from Laura Ashley. Yay! Of course I have to put it all together (self-assembly you see), but it’s here. Then I can dump the box. In the garage.
That Dear Friends is about the long and the short of it for yesterday. Oh, except that kitten William has started peeing in odd places, like our *!!new!! *!!expensive!!* Stressless leather recliner in the living room (on Monday night) and in one of the cat beds today. It’s all been cleaned. In readiness for the next time.
Then there was the totally yummy Sausage and Lentil Concoction that I came up with for dinner last night. Maybe I’ll post the recipe here some time, except I should probably come up with a better name for it, don’t you think? ‘Concoction’ sounds like something I rustled up in a chemistry lab.
And there it is. Tuesday.
I had one of those weird moments today when panic makes time stand still and thoughts that might well be the basis of an entire conversation in the normal course of events are flashed across the brain and collated at the speed of light.
I had just finished getting washed, dressed and made up, had just popped the mascara back into its tube, zipped up my little make-up bag and put the mirror back in its place by the washhand basin and was thinking to myself how lucky the timing would be because the kittens had fallen peacefully asleep. That meant that I wouldn’t have to speedily slime my way through a crack in the front door to prevent feline escapees.
Then I heard it – an ominous thudding and the unhealthy sound of porcelain chinking coming from the bathroom. I went in to see kitten William, up on the window ledge, chasing a fly and doing a quick succession of Fosbury Flops onto my little white porcelain dish … which sits beside my brand spanking new glass optic jar from Laura Ashley (of which I am inordinately fond at the moment)… which sits beside a little blue Wedgewood trinket box. I went into an instant stressy. The fly kept buzzing and batting itself frantically against the windows, meaning that even though I had caught William and was extracting his struggling form from the bathroom, in came brother Harry to see what all the fuss was about. Of course he quickly figured it out and started doing his own back flips amongst my precious possessions.
Then my brain went into that odd panic slow-mo, where neurons are clearly sparking at supersonic speed and entire lengthy thoughts are processed in nanoseconds. Inside my brain it went something like this:.
Question: Do I open the window to let the fly out? Answer: Don’t be silly, the cats will be out and away in an instant.
Question: Do I try to catch the fly? Answer: Now that’s even more silly. With what? Do you think you’re the Shaolin monk out of the Kung Fu series? Catch it between your thumb and forefinger perhaps? … er, I don’t think so!
Question: Can I catch both cats at the same time and get them out of here? Answer: Almost as silly as option two.
Question: Do I move my stuff to a place of safety? Answer: At last! Some sense! But you can’t carry everything at once so what do you save first, brainbox?
I did get my stuff out, but only whilst blubbering like a two-year-old girl – maybe as a result of blind panic, I don’t know. (I’ve given up trying to understand why and how I cry so often and so easily, I just do. Always have). By the time bits had been moved, the fly had dematerialised (or was eaten) and I looked in the mirror. I had panda eyes — my mascara had smudged and started to streak down my cheeks. I had to be out early this morning so I quickly patched up the damage and as I slipped out of the front door minutes later I noticed the cats were cuddling and dozing on the bed as though nothing at all had just happened. Little [~ bleeeeeep ~]!
My daughters are currently furnishing two cottages they have bought close to us here. My younger daughter (YD for the purposes of this post) is sensible and pretty street-wise despite not having lived away from home before. However, nothing can really prepare you for the sharks that start to circle out there in the big wide world once they smell easy pickings.
YD had taken an afternoon’s holiday from work yesterday in order to meet up with the guy from a local blind supply/fitting company (BS for this post…which, I think, is an appropriate abbreviation in other ways). As the time after the appointment would be free, we thought we’d go along together and then do some window shopping for other bits at an out-of-town retail outlet. I try to make it a point not to stick my oar in on matters to do with her own home so when Mr BS turned up I said hello but then kept suitably schtoom. Cost is an issue here – obviously – but she would ideally like some plantation shutters. So far the one quote she’s had has been way over the top for a young couple just starting out (in the high hundreds of Pounds for just one window) but then those were hardwood shutters and we know other alternatives are available.
Mr BS said he is able to supply shutters in MDF – which for the unitiated is basically pressed cardboard and so has nothing like the staying power of hardwood. Still, for a first home that sounded ideal. She made what I think may have been the mistake of telling him the price that she had been quoted for the largest window by the first company, and when he measured the same window, almost without looking at his paperwork he came up with exactly the same price. I immediately smelled a rat and piped up:
‘Hang on, you’re quoting £xxx for this window…in MDF …which is basically pressed cardboard. You do know that the other company were quoting for solid wood shutters’.
I do believe there was micro expression of guilt there (yes, I too have watched ‘Lie to Me’ but I’ve always had a pretty good BS monitor anyway). YD glanced over at me with a knowing expression in her eyes and asked Mr BS how much hardwood shutters would be then. The answer was £30 more than MDF and she quite rightly said that on that basis it made little sense for anyone to go for MDF if they could afford to stretch just that £30 more.
He won’t be getting the business.
Just because I can be a bolshy so-and-so, I typed in the dimensions of the window at a UK suppliers’ internet site today and the quote it came up with (for MDF) was a little less than half the price quoted yesterday.
This isn’t the first instance I’ve noticed of traders being slick with someone they perceive as young and therefore inexperienced. Doubtless exactly the same was done to me at that age, which explains precisely why I am so cynical about anything to do with buying products and services for the home. I just wish there was a way of somehow downloading my wisdom and copying it over to my children.
That’s it, we’re at the weekend and the forecast is good, all the way to Monday (and beyond). I’m going to take full advantage of it and potter around doing gardening tasks, which will have the knock-on effect of making our older cats very happy indeed. They love it when we’re outside anyway but with the introduction of the ‘newbies’ have spent more time outside, in the garage and in the utility room, rather than run the gauntlet of Kittendom in the main house. Gardening outside means they get us all to themselves.
What will make them even happier is that my husband is filling in the gaps on our pergola with netting. It makes for a handy temporary ‘cage’ outside our living room, meaning that we can finally fling open the doors again to allow air into the house and give the kittens a safe taste of the outside, without of course being able to run away. It also gives the olds a chance to saunter nonchalantly around on the outside of the netting, flaunting the glorious freedom that they are able to enjoy!
What about you, got any plans for the weekend?