Elsbeth Johnson

Elsbeth Johnson

is creating Novels
The Feminist Playwright - the new novel by L S Johnson:  


Tatiana looked resignedly at herself in the mirror, which has been thoughtfully if not artfully illuminated with halogen bulbs. Staring out at her was someone who could only be described as a pixie or even possibly an elf. Suddenly she was regretting having ever walked through the door of ‘Chic’ hairdressers let alone having arranged an appointment or even turning up to it. Still she had, and now an hour or so later she was sitting, shorn, in a passably comfy chair, blinking at herself and her newly near naked head. Still, it was a start.

She registered that someone, presumably the woman, or was she maybe a girl, conceivably a trainee, who had cut her hair was speaking to her and prompting her to observe the back of her head. Approval was required.

‘Do you like it?’ Was the question. ‘Yes yes.’ Said Tatiana. At this point the mirror was whisked away and she felt herself rise to her feet. ‘Did you have a bag?’ Enquired the shearer. ‘A black one. And a grey coat’. She responded flatly. ‘You can pay at reception.’ ‘Which is downstairs?’ Responded Tatiana. ‘Yes, see you in six weeks. A brave decision but I don’t think you will regret it.’

Extremely easy for the shearer to opine thought Tatiana. What possesses someone to go from tresses to basically having a crew cut in under an hour? Still the deed had been done. She was now foot loose and fancy free in good old London town. It was to all effects and purposes her playground and now she didn’t have a mane to hamper her she could set to actually enjoying her newly won freedom.

Freedom. It is a strong phrase, as presumably if someone is free they have at some point been captive. Tatiana had that morning decided to instigate a personal policy of not dwelling on the past so her prior servitude or even, call it what you will, indenture, was really neither here nor there. Today was indeed the first day or the rest of her life, crew cut, grey coat, black hand bag or none...tbc...


The Feminist Playwright - the new novel by L S Johnson:  


Tatiana looked resignedly at herself in the mirror, which has been thoughtfully if not artfully illuminated with halogen bulbs. Staring out at her was someone who could only be described as a pixie or even possibly an elf. Suddenly she was regretting having ever walked through the door of ‘Chic’ hairdressers let alone having arranged an appointment or even turning up to it. Still she had, and now an hour or so later she was sitting, shorn, in a passably comfy chair, blinking at herself and her newly near naked head. Still, it was a start.

She registered that someone, presumably the woman, or was she maybe a girl, conceivably a trainee, who had cut her hair was speaking to her and prompting her to observe the back of her head. Approval was required.

‘Do you like it?’ Was the question. ‘Yes yes.’ Said Tatiana. At this point the mirror was whisked away and she felt herself rise to her feet. ‘Did you have a bag?’ Enquired the shearer. ‘A black one. And a grey coat’. She responded flatly. ‘You can pay at reception.’ ‘Which is downstairs?’ Responded Tatiana. ‘Yes, see you in six weeks. A brave decision but I don’t think you will regret it.’

Extremely easy for the shearer to opine thought Tatiana. What possesses someone to go from tresses to basically having a crew cut in under an hour? Still the deed had been done. She was now foot loose and fancy free in good old London town. It was to all effects and purposes her playground and now she didn’t have a mane to hamper her she could set to actually enjoying her newly won freedom.

Freedom. It is a strong phrase, as presumably if someone is free they have at some point been captive. Tatiana had that morning decided to instigate a personal policy of not dwelling on the past so her prior servitude or even, call it what you will, indenture, was really neither here nor there. Today was indeed the first day or the rest of her life, crew cut, grey coat, black hand bag or none...tbc...


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