I didn’t start a degree straight after sixth form. I spent 2000-01 at Loughborough University on an Art & Design foundation course and when I think back on my whole five years of studying, it is that first year that I hold dearest. That was the year I met the people who are still some of my best and closest friends. It was the year of some of my favourite silliest nights out, where I learnt the most about art practice, about boys, and probably about myself.

Considering this was all just over 11 years ago, my memory may be a little jumbled. However this is the story of some Twitter-infused serendipity which led me to having this fun set of photos published in the very awesome 7th issue of Rebelicious magazine (P48-9).

Rebelicious #7

Rebelicious #7

I met Marc Burrows during my last term at Loughborough. On the basis that he was on the radio, involved with the uni magazine AND a Manic Street Preachers fan, I pretty much decided I should probably marry him.

However this was 2001.

And I was 18.

And an art student.

And I did make that ‘decision’ quite a few times that year.

So instead of marrying him, what we actually did was get to know each other as we drank quite a few bottles of Smirnoff Ice whilst I was dressed as a school girl on a night out in the student union. Obviously.

We would sit in the dark watching the Manics on Jools Holland, discussing which Bluetones b-sides were best, and the whole thing was possibly the most stereotypical music-loving over-emotionally invested art student scenario you could ever think of.

Marc made me a mixtape, obviously. I lost the tape, finished my course, and that was the end of that.


No. No it wasn’t.

Fast forward a decade or so. AN ENTIRE DECADE.

A couple of months ago, my lovely pal Dawn – champion of bicycles, Wales, and bicycling around Wales, invited me to watch her first attempt at stand-up comedy.

I looked at the details on the link she sent me.

“Oh! That’s funny. It says it’s headlined by Marc Burrows. I wonder if it’s the same guy I knew at Loughborough”

“Well, I know him. He works with me. He did go to Loughborough, so it is almost definitely him. Do you ‘know him’ know him, then?”

“Errr, yes.”

I tell Dawn The Story of Marc, and she kindly tells me his name on Twitter. I decide to say hello:


The two words that sum up my entire history with the opposite sex.

Reunited with a long-lost love, his only response to our first contact in 11 years is “OH GOD”.

We go on to have a bit of a twittery catch-up, which is nice. He even goes on to describe this very story on his radio show, which is all very 2001 and nostalgic and funny and great. We catch up at the comedy night as planned, which is awkward and good in predictably equal measures.

And the next day, Marc asked The Internet if anyone might be free to photograph his exciting magazine feature: “MAN HAS A HAIRCUT.”

Well waddyaknow. I take photos. And was free that day.

I send Marc a link to my Flickr to see if he thinks I’d be up to the job.

“Would this be a bit weird? Or just good timing and actually good/funny?”

“It IS a bit weird, but in the best way.”

And that, basically, is the story of some photos of a boy having a haircut, 11 years in the making.

Do read his article though. It is good, and funny. As is he.