The last time I had short hair was when I was a teenager. It was a short-short bob, graduated at the back and dyed a fiery red, thanks to my favourite Wella Shaders and Toners. I truly loved that bob. Having an actual hair ‘style’, as opposed to just hair that was there, made me feel grown-up, sophisticated and chic (despite the fact I wasn’t yet old enough to buy an Archers and lemonade in the pub). But once that bob grew out I never went back; long hair became my signature style.

In truth, long hair really was part of my visual identity. “You know Lisa,” people would say, “the one with the really long brown hair.” It was my primary descriptor alongside my tendency to smile a lot. My hair even had its own fan base. I once discovered a picture of me was being used in a Manchester hair salon as ‘hairspiration’ (a career high) and old friends and colleagues would often ask after my hair before my general wellbeing. And I loved it too. Thanks to my Italian heritage, I had easy-to-grow, thick hair and I could get away with a trim a couple of times (OK, once) a year. Drying it, however, was not quite as low maintenance. Long hair needs time to style, and even though I had become a whizz with straighteners and tongs, I had to book hair wash nights into my diary because the whole process took hours: wash, leave to dry naturally for an hour, dry with a Dyson Airwrap, style. I wouldn’t have considered going near a hairdryer with freshly showered hair; not even The Rock and his bulging biceps could hold a hairdryer over his head for that long.

“I’ve had long hair for 30 years – this is what happened when I cut it into a lob”