‘Are you all right?’ My assistant had now made her way to me and was staring. I could only imagine what I looked like but I did know it certainly wasn’t the look we’d had in mind for this photo shoot. ‘You have… umm…’ Tilly hesitantly pointed at my head.

I looked back, blankly. ‘What?’

‘In your hair.’

‘What? What’s in my hair?’ My voice kicked up an octave. I didn’t especially want to know what was in my hair. But neither did I want what was in my hair to remain there. I put my hand up warily and felt around. Nothing.

‘Can you get it?’

Tilly shook her head. ‘I can’t. I can’t touch it!’

‘What? You can’t touch what? Where is it?’ Visions of hideous things crawling about on my head now filled my mind. I bent over and shook my head but nothing obvious plopped out on the beach. I looked back at Tilly, hopeful.

She shook her head. Then took a picture.

‘What are you doing?’ I squeaked in horror.

Tilly turned the camera and showed me the screen.

Nope. Definitely not the look we’d been aiming for to showcase these pieces on my blog. Moments ago I’d been dressed in a full-length, organic cotton sundress, its laced bodice giving way to a floaty, bias skirt, all in the softest shade of lemon. My shiny, deep auburn hair had been swept artfully to the side, softly teased curls contrasting with the colour of the fabric. The image on the screen now showed that there was absolutely nothing artful about my current look. The dress was plastered to my body, its pale colour and fine fabric meaning that it had helpfully gone completely see-through the moment it got wet. My hair had returned to its natural poker-straight state and clung in strands to the front of the dress and my upper arms. I peered at the screen again for direction, then reached up. A piece of seaweed had wound itself around my hair and was now clinging to the side of my head, just above my ear. Tentatively exploring my hair with my fingers, I brushed against something slimy. Biting back a squeal, I tried again. Forcing my hand to close on the slippery tail, I yanked and felt it give. Flinging the offending piece of seaweed back towards the waves, I turned back to Tilly.

‘Has it all gone?’

She peered around my head, moving me by the shoulder to check the back, ‘Yes. All gone.’

‘Thanks for your help.’ I raised an eyebrow and grinned at her.

She looked at me, a sheepish look on her face. ‘Sorry. Seaweed gives me the willies. It’s all slimy and yucky.’

I shook my head at her, still smiling.

‘What are we going to do about the dress?’ Tilly asked.

I glanced down. She was right. There was no way I could walk about like this. Brighton might be known for its laissez-faire attitude but I personally drew the line at swanning about in an outfit that now left very little to the imagination. I leant across and took the bags and equipment off her.