Meeting friends and family soon is lifting my spirits, but I am more excited about a haircut - Becky Bond

I’d take any day, time, any style. Did I mind about the price increase due to lost revenue? Nope. At this stage I’d be willing to sell a kidney for a trim as my current look is Jay from The Inbetweeners.

The salon will be locked and it’s a one-out-one-in scenario with bookings staggered to leave room for cleaning. We’ll both be wearing masks and I might have to wash my hair at home and turn up with it wet, but as long as I leave with less on top than when I arrived, I’m not fussed. When I was gleefully typing the date into my phone, it rang again – Alan from work wondered if I was up for a day’s paid employment next month. I most certainly was, but quiet palpitations followed as I prayed it wouldn’t clash with my exciting new booking. I was hugely relieved to find out it was a couple of days after, which has the added bonus of allowing me to re-enter the office looking largely the same as when I left it in March.

Later that day, my mobile pinged again. I’d been added to a WhatsApp Group called Solstice Saunter. More details followed to reveal an invitation to a charity event whereby you pay twenty quid to get up at half past three in the morning and walk (in a socially distanced fashion) to Ilkley Moor to see the sunrise on the longest day of the year. Count me in, I replied.

Over 50 messages flew back and forth the night before regarding location of headtorches, flasks, pastries, layers of clothing and fancy dress. Eight middle-aged mums scrambling for The Twelve Apostles ascent. We were almost only seven in number because one woman, who shall remain nameless (oh go on then, it was Rachel) nearly got the wrong day. When we arrived, another nameless lady (oh go on then, it was Gina) was sorely disappointed because she’d visualised Stonehenge instead of a dozen low-lying boulders abandoned in the heather. I suspect she wasn’t half as crestfallen as the cosy couple on the picnic blanket though, whom we interrupted for our photo shoot. The rest of the morning went by in a blur – lack of sleep left me feeling hungover with a bizarre sense of satisfaction; as if the longest day had marked the end of lockdown. Crawling back under my duvet at 8am, I found my husband scrolling through his phone with an optimistic look on his face. He was perusing new tents after hearing our annual weekend camping trip down South might be back on.

Finally, life is gaining momentum again. Meeting friends, work and a possible short break are all lifting my spirits. But the thing making my shallow self most happy, is knowing I’m less than two weeks away from a trim.