Now, I do not know exactly why, maybe it was his impending 29th Birthday, but when I embarked upon the latest root-retouch of my hair, Eric became quite involved in the proceedings, helping me with the back bits and generally asking questions.
No sooner had I turned my back than Eric, colour-brush in hand had turned the remnants of the bottle towards his own head.
When I realised he was quite intent on colouring his hair, I tried to help out and was carefully told "I just want an even sheen of colour". These are unusual words from my boyfriend. The same thing applies for his next phrase: "Do you have a hand-mirror?"
Here we are, then. Yes, that is bemused confusion on my face.
After 20 minutes I washed my hair as usual, checked the colour and had to leave for a cut appointment in the spa, and so left Eric with clear instructions on the next step in his colour treatment.
When I returned, Eric informed me he'd already applied extra bleach to some "uneven spots" and unveiled his new look proudly. I'm the girlfriend of a Nordic Blonde, reader!
Eat your heart out, Johnnie Rotten!