Its that time again. Not the time of the week, (Thursday, when I wish the weekend would get a move on), or the time of the month (ovulation?), or the time of year (come on spring, I need you to be here already). Nope, its about that time every other year or so when I decide it is not my destiny to have black/very dark brown hair, and it is indeed possible to be blond. I know perfectly well from past experience it will inevitably end with ginger/orange, but hey-ho, here I am sat with a dollop of peroxide on the front of my hair. Keep your fingers crossed my poor wee fringe survives it.
Here I am in 1999 with my fiend L, I am the chubby faced one on the right as you are looking at it (often referred to at the time as Ginger Spice).