Mr and Mrs Hair, quite elderly now, have entertained a life long passion for cleaning and hair products and chemicals (much to King Fisher's annoyance). Back in the day, they were both into the hair business and owned a busy little corner establishment just off the short run of Pembury High Street. Mrs Hair was the hair dresser and Mr Hair was the hair colourist and together they performed daring feats with willing customers for the heyday of their hair days was the very vibey swinging sixties and seventies. They're also ardent germaphobes, so when Ann-Judy was born they ensured she was covered from head to toe in the tight knit garments Mrs Hair had spent every free moment of her uncomfortable pregnancy feverishly knitting. Her sister was a self proclaimed magniloquent psychic medium of the psychedelic age and fervently and florally predicted that Mrs Hair was having a boy, hence everything knitted was blue. Ann-Judy was destined for the blues...
When Ann-Judy was growing up her parents would obsessively compulsively clean their house, particularly on the weekends. Then when there was not a speck of dust to be seen, they would head off to Camber Sands beach for a pleasant family picnic trying their hardest not to get any sand on them before getting back in their little Mini Cooper to return home and discuss the latest technology in cleaning and chemical products. For the most part, Mr and Mrs Hair spent so much time engaged in conversation about this heady subject, they hardly noticed their daughter and she became highly skilled at keeping out of their hair, for she instinctively knew it was probably the best place to be. She became a loner, perhaps sitting in her bedroom brushing her glorious long locks which her parents were so proud of, or playing with the rag doll and woolly lion her not so psychic now crazy crafter Aunt had made for her, in a corner of the spick and span living room trying to drown out the endless drone of her parents, yet all the while imbibing the scientific information via osmosis. I suspect it was this subtle instruction that prepared Ann-Judy to experiment with play dough until the wholly ingenious day she perfected her recipe and made the adorable dough baby Camber. She'd take him along on their coastal excursions and they'd beach comb together ever ready for some great discovery wallowing in the shallows of the frothy water's edge...
The Cybiography of Queen Marcheline CLICK HERE:
AND HE SAID:
"Truly I tell you,
You're NEVER too old to be young at heart
P l a g i a r i s m is
a plague D O N ' T
S P R E A D I T ! ! !
R e s p e c t