post-ikea cañas

16 Friday Mar 2018

Posted by in retail therapy, sevilla, shopping

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These post-IKEA cañas were much needed after another long (and largely fruitless) trip out to Tomares. In fact, the bus ride only takes 10 minutes, but there’s the hike to the station, and also to the store once you get there. This time I was armed with a LIST and was determined not to waste any time. Ha. It turned out that the tray-table I wanted looked quite different in person than it did online, so I ended up not getting it. And – even worse – the frying pan I bought for my new inducción cooker will have to be returned (long story, and even a longer trip just to return something).

My original plan had been to bus there and taxi back, using Cabify (thanks to Cinta for telling me about this service). But after not getting the table it didn’t seem worth getting a taxi, so we opted for the bus back, which of course we missed by 30 seconds and ended up having to wait half an hour for the next one. Which is where these beers came in, after arriving back in Sevilla. On the way home I said – as I always do – that I never wanted to go to IKEA again. But somehow we forget between trips how exhausting it is, plus there’s that damn frying pan I have to take back…

on dyeing at home

15 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by in hair, sevilla

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Every couple of months or so I slap this stuff on my head for about 20 minutes, rinse it out and then I’m good to go… no more grey hairs (at least for awhile). The whole process takes about half an hour. I’ve tried doing this at a salon. It takes FOREVER, costs three times as much, and the results often aren’t what I’d asked for.

Unlike many women I know, I really don’t like going to the hairdresser’s. Seriously. I don’t like it A LOT. If I could I would cut my own hair, as it’s been the same cut I’ve had since I was 25. A just below the jawline bob. Not that it even matters since I always pull my hair back anyhow. So I have come to dread having to spend a whole hour at the salon when the cut only takes about 5 minutes… the rest is just faffing around. The only saving grace is that many years ago I found a hairdresser’s that gets me.

I just want my hair cut. I don’t want to chat. I don’t want to read gossip mags. I just want to get in and out as quickly as possible. And these guys totally understand that, though I’m sure they think I’m an anti-social weirdo, which they probably put down to me being a guiri. I’ve considered asking them if they would just cut my hair and let me leave without the blow-dry, which takes at least 4 times longer than the cut. But then I’d miss that moment when my hair actually looks like I wished it would always look like. Depending on weather conditions this lasts anywhere from 15 minutes to half an hour…