||[Dec. 15th, 2016|12:01 pm]
I know I said I'd grow my hair but I can never get through the bit in the middle- where the hair isn't long enough to constitute a statement but long enough to tickle the ears and be itchy. I'd love to be a cavalier but it looks like I'm destined to live out the rest of this life as a roundhead.|
Perhaps I should invest in a wig. Then I could be Prince Rupert in the morning and Praise-God Barebones in the afternoon- or the other way round if I so chose. No, I'm not serious. Wigs are silly.
I was looking at portraits of late seventeenth century admirals in the Queens House at Greenwich, all of them with their fat little faces engulphed in enormous shoulder-length horsehair wigs and I was thinking "How did they stand it?"