A DIFFERENT VIEW
Not your regular view and not your regular sky!
Australians see their skies as ever-blue!
And the Opera House is very often looming rather large
With ships out in the harbour passing-by.
But here's a different aspect, showing clouds portending rain,
And an Opera House all stunted and deformed.
It shows my friend, Rob, and family, doing 'the tourist bit',
Slipping in a shot before it stormed!
Some of you will understand this poem! If you do, don't give your age away!
A BEE IN MY BONNET!
Do you recall the Beehive? No, not the one with bees?
But the 1960s hair-do, requiring a lot of 'tease'!
My hair was always whispy and body-less and fine,
But Beehives were the fashion so, of course, I made it mine!
But the struggle and the anguish simply can't be overstated!
The visits to the salon which were frequent and much-hated;
The sitting in the chair as pretty hairdressers tut-tutted,
And their remarks, so critical, which made me feel quite gutted.
'If Modom had more hair' they'd say, 'We'd be able to produce
Something elegant and smart, but, in your case, what's the use?'
'I must look like my friends!' I'd cry 'A poor workman blames his tools!
Modom wants a Beehive! Supply it! Them's the rules!
The customer is always right! So go ahead! Beehive me!
Be creative! Something grand is what you must contrive me!'
And so they duly went ahead, with shampoo, and with rinse,
And a lot of other 'condiments' I haven't noticed since!
Once washed, my little bit of hair lay limply on my head,
Until the wretched rollers made it wide and high instead.
Then came the awful dryer, and a scalp all burning hot,
But a Beehive would be my reward so I didn't mind a jot.
Back-combing! Is it done these days? It's a wonder we survived it!
But hair demanded torture as the hairdresser Beehived it!
The hair was, first, teased one way, and then, as Modom cursed,
The whole revolting process was immediately reversed.
Now all the in-between hair was tangled, knotted, matted,
And the net-result was Modom looking very woolly-hatted!
Now the clever part! A few stray strands, left longer and still pliable,
Were spread out over all the mess and made to look reliable.
Indeed, when it was smoothed and glossed, it really looked a treat,
Like some enormous hairy egg, quite good enough to eat.
Now for the spray and do not think I'm talking of a puff.
Great streams of it for evermore it seemed were not enough!
At last came the displaying, with triumphant shouts of glee,
And the most excited person there was Beehived little me!
I was modern, I was 'with it',( though we didn't use that phrase.)
I paid the pretty hairdresser and heaped great songs of praise.
I peered then, at the outside world, was it a little wet?
If so, I'd need the plastic bonnet one dared not forget!
I'd hurry home before the nasty elements could play
Fast and loose with my great hair, and ruin my whole day.
There followed then a week of care, of lying stiff in bed,
Making sure that nothing spoilt the glory on my head!
( I didn't need a 'headache', my hair had other uses;
I didn't need to parrot any other old excuses!)
Of course, I didn't wash it! Just the lightest surface brush,
And a patting into place of all the bits that I might crush.
But, inevitably, bits began to flop and droop and sag!
By the ending of the week I was a hide-in-the-cupboard hag!
Come Saturday I'd have to go through all the whole routine,
So that I could strut about as the local Beehive Queen!
Was ever there a torture so designed to lay us low?
Did everybody suffer as I did I want to know!
My hair today is flat and fine, and 'doing its own thing'.
It doesn't mind a rainy day or the breezes battering.
I'm so delighted it's no more, that silly fashion craze!
Whoever coined lying words and said
THE GOOD OLD DAYS?
I haven't seen that perspective of the Opera House before! It must be really immense...how I would love to be on those steps right now.
The poem made me smile ;-)
Great shot of the Opera House.
Different, but still a great shot of the opera house and the skies aren't too grumpy! And, oh yes, I do remember the beehive hairdo! Lord, hadn't thought of that one in ages! Have a great week, Brenda!
A great view of the Sydney Opera House.
Sydney - City and Suburbs
Funny moment eh..
God bless you...
You just made me smile....
I enjoyed your poem (what fun) & the photo of the opera house, too.
I remember the beehive. I also remember the urban myths that circulated about women who used so much hair spray to hold their beehives in place, and never washed their hair, that entire nests of roaches, mice, wasps, spiders, or other creepy-crawlies ---depending on who told the story ---lived in them.
My mother told me this and totally believed it. I knew instantly that it was pure bunk. I have always been a skeptic about just about everything.
My hair was never long enough for a beehive, even if I had wanted one. Once in a while I see them in old movies and wonder that anyone thought the style was attractive. My husband loves movies from the 30s and 40s ---while he analyzes the film style and plot, I often laugh at the ridiculous hats the women wore.
I am not much interested in fashion, except for the comic value, but I know the true classics never look out of date, do they?
i loved loved this post. the beehive, oh yes i sure do, and i could never have one either, fine 'bum fluff' i had/have. but i often wondered what was building its nest in that hair! lol.
Loved the post and the poem..the opera house looks fabulous!
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