No, really.

It doesn't suit you and it's not finished. Take it off.

Meet Number 8

It's been at least 20 hours of looping plugs and stitching them into the scalp. At least. I've shoved a darning needle through my finger more than once, thought I was going to run out of hair and seriously doubted my sanity.

But then I put my brave pants on and did her makeup...

Glittery glittery glittery!

...and now I think I realise that Number 8 isn't going to be heading off anywhere too fast, because she's completely gorgeous.

Ooooh. 

Can't quite believe what I've created. Here's a reminder of how she looked before.

Cute, but not smouldering...

And here's the after again.

Now all she needs is a name... and to stop making my other customs look bad. Bah!

Never. Again.

One of the things about having a slightly off-the-wall hobby is that when people at work ask how you spent your weekend, you're socially obliged to avoid saying things like "oh, I spent most of it watching Black Books and listening to Terry Pratchett's Wyrd Sisters audiobook whilst sewing hair into a doll's scalp entirely by hand".

Eight. Freaking. Hours. EIGHT. 

"Oh, I just had a bit of a lazy one, really."

Caturday Afternoon

It's a rainy old day in South Wales. I was very good this morning and went for a run, and now I'm watching Black Books on Netflix and trying to get on with my scalp rooting.

Unfortunately, Bagpuss has decided he wants to help out. This involves sitting on my lap, trying to steal my cup of tea and purring (and drooling) mightily.