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You know when you tell someone that you've had a bad day and, instead of being empathetic, they start telling you about how bad their day was, too? And it ends up as some weird competition to see whose day was worse.

(Just a random rant from the lead, not a dig at people who do this 😂 sometimes it's nice to share)

In the end, you don't feel any better and you're annoyed with the person.

And just to be clear, I will win every single damn day.

My father passed away when I was ten, which is sucky enough. He left behind me, my mum and a giant hole in our lives where he had been.

Two years ago, my mother was diagnosed with stage 2 lung cancer. She was given six months to live, and instead, I got to keep her for two years.

For two years, we spent almost every day together, making the most of our time. We went on holidays, ticked things off her bucket list, laughed and cried to our hearts' content. We did everything possible to ensure that, when her time came, she was satisfied with the life she had lived.

I sent her off with tears on my face, but a smile, too. She was happy and at peace.

Now, it's just me.

Sounds like a pretty crap life, doesn't it? It gets worse. In an unbearably cliché turn of events, my boyfriend of one year cheated on me with my so-called best friend.

They went out to a party together. I declined to go and instead stayed in with my mother. In the morning, when I called him, I could hear in the background. I asked why she was with him and he couldn't lie to me.

He's never been a good liar. He was hungover and he panicked. His guilty 'um' gave him away immediately. It was the last thing I needed. Obviously, I broke up with him instantly.

The amount that my heart has been through the last year is ridiculous.

I buried my mother a month ago. I woke up the day after her funeral and thought, I need to get out of here. I'm sick of old Jennifer Hughes. I need to make a new life, a new identity for myself.

I applied to have my name legally changed. I took on my mother's maiden name, Wilson, and changed my first name to Lily. It was her favourite flower.

Yesterday, my confirmation came through the post. My passport, license and all of my important accounts have been updated to my new legal name.

Yesterday, Lily Wilson was born.

I get to decide who she is and what kind of life she has had. I'm leaving my baggage behind with Jennifer Hughes, I don't want to deal with her shit any more.

I sold the house, quit my job and packed everything I could possibly need into my truck. This morning, I checked out of the hotel I've been staying at and got in the car.

I went on Google Maps last night and scoured the coast for the perfect seaside town. I found one, called Merrymoore. How can anywhere called Merrymoore be bad?

I need more merry in my life, so I chose it. It's a three hour drive from my old town, so I hit the road before ten o'clock.

I arrive at one, ready for lunch. After parking up in front of a cute diner, I get a table and browse the menu.

When the friendly waitress comes over to take my order, I ask her whether she knows anywhere for rent in town. She happily tells me about the house her brother is currently letting. It's still two months before tourist season. He's just done up the house and desperately needs a tennant.

She gives me his number and I text him, expressing my interest in viewing the property. He replies whilst I'm eating my lunch.

We arrange a meeting for four in the afternoon. With a couple of hours to kill, I wander around the coastal town.

It's beautiful. The beaches are sandy and surprisingly exotic-looking for a coast in England. There are cute cottages and a traditional high street with boutique stores and small businesses.

All in all, it seems perfect.

The waitress' brother shows me the house and I love it instantly. He asks when I can I move in and I jokingly tell him that, currently, everything I own in is my car.

He already has a printed copy of a rental agreement. I sign it on the premises, agreeing to a one month trial rental.

Whilst he returns to his home to get the keys for me, I move my things in from my car. It's a simple house, only one bedroom and bathroom, but it's ideal for my situation.

He drops round the keys and the details for the utilities. We agree that the first of each month will be the rent day and I transfer £200 to his account as a deposit.

When he's gone, I drive to the big supermarket I saw on the outskirts of town and buy some food to stock the fridge. I treat myself to deep-pan pizza for dinner and a bottle of wine.

I haven't drank in a long time. Mum couldn't because of all the medication she was on, and it seemed wrong to drink when she couldn't join me.

I also buy some blonde hair dye, about three boxes, actually. My hair has always been light, mousy-brown. I figure that honey blonde isn't too far off my natural colour. I want to be a totally new me- I might as well have new hair, too.

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When I wake up the next morning, I get a rather nasty shock when I first see my reflection. My hair is a horrible mix of brassy tones and yellow patches from the bleach.

I can't help it, I burst into tears. It's all too much.

I know it's dramatic, but I wanted this to be a new start with everything going right for a change. I hoped it would different.

I have a shower and scrub my hair, but it makes no difference. In the end, I fix my face and go on Google to look for nearby salons. I find on the high street.

After tying my hair in a bun and putting my hood up, I walk to the salon. It's only a ten minute walk.

I really hope they take walk-ins.

Thankfully, they're practically empty at this time in the morning. It's a weekday and they must have only just opened.

'Hey, honey.'

A bubbly blonde greets me from behind the counter. I eye her long locks with envy. She's more of a platinum, much lighter than the colour I wanted, but she looks a darn sight better than I do.

'Hey.'

'What can I do for you?'

I pull down my hood and take my hair down. She smiles sympathetically.

'Can you help, please? It all went wrong.'

'Of course, I can!' She exclaims happily. 'Come on, let's get you in a chair.'

She ushers me over to a seat. I shrug out of my jacket and she takes it off me to hang it up with my handbag. She starts brushing through my hair.

'So, you tried to do the DIY thing, huh?' She says warmly, smiling at me through the mirror.

'Yeah,' I reply. 'I've never dyed my hair before.'

She nods. 'It's a tricky thing to get right.'

After brushing out any tangles, she asks me what colour I'm aiming for and brings out a booklet. I pick the honey tone that I want and she gathers all of the kit together.

I sit patiently as she parts my hair into sections and mixes up the dye. As she works, she asks me about my life.

I'm a little blunt at first, reluctant to get into it, but she wears me down.

'Oh, honey.' Her voice is so sympathetic. It's comforting, not patronising. 'You poor thing, that sounds dreadful.'

I look up at the ceiling and blink rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay.

'I'm sorry,' I mutter, my voice breaking. 'It's just been a bad month.'

'Oh, sweetie,' she drawls and squeezes my shoulder. 'Don't apologise. Life gets too much for some of us sometimes. You can tell me all about it, if you want. Us hairdressers are good listeners, I promise.'

She's lovely. I find out that her name is Christie and she's lived in this town her whole life. She's twenty-five and engaged to her school sweetheart. She listens to my shortened version of my sad little life and offers words of comfort.

When my hair has been left long enough, she takes out the foil. I swap to one of the chairs by the sinks and she washes my hair. After that, she blowdries it and straightens it.

I smile at my reflection, totally pleased with my perfectly-toned hair.

'This is exactly how I wanted it, thank you!' I exclaim happily.

'No problem, honey.'

I pay up at the counter. I pull on my jacket and make to leave when Christie calls out.

'This is random and all, I know, but you're new here. My friends and I will be in the local bar, Jack's, tonight. Why don't you stop by? You could have a drink with us.'

'I'd love that, thank you.'

I walk home with a smile on my face. Might as well go tonight and give my new hair a trip out.

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