What’s so funny about ginger-haired people? I’m one myself. When I was a child I though it was something to be proud of – old ladies would pat my head in the supermarket and coo about my lovely golden locks, in that way old ladies do.

My fellow playmates were not so kind and I was an obvious target for the school bully. I soon learned that being called ‘ginger twat’ was not a show of affection. There was something wrong with me!  Like a pasty-skinned mutant with a faulty chromosome, I was destined to spend my life bleaching my hair and hiding my true identity.

I’d like to say I was helping out a friend, doing it for charity, or it just looked like fun. But I can’t lie. During a spell ‘in-between’ careers, I worked as a temporary receptionist. It was a crap job but I needed the crap money that went with it.

Being a temp, I was given all the necessary training and attention required. “Desk’s over there, manual’s in the drawer,” rasped the burly office manager as she brushed me aside and slammed her office door. Great. Obviously I was going to be a valuable addition to the team.

I hate public washrooms. For a function everyone has to perform several times a day, you’d think washrooms would be pleasurable places to visit – tasteful decor, velvety tissue paper and a flat-screen TV on every stall door.

Instead they are – well, you know what they are. And being female means my alternatives are limited. Men can just flip out their best buddy and go anywhere. No need to hunt down a secluded bush in the park and hover in the breeze with their pants tangled around their ankles.

My boss informs me Rob is not at work today as she believes his father has died. She asks me to buy a sympathy card to be signed by the staff. I hike for three miles in the pouring rain looking for a suitably tasteful condolence. Stupid card.

I dutifully take the card around the company, informing employees in hushed tones that Rob's father has passed, please can you write a few words? Responses range from mild indifference (who in the flying fuck is Rob?) to "Oh my god! How did he die? When? Of what?" I have no idea but just shake my head sadly. Actually I have no idea who Rob is either.