365:77 Kookie, Kookie, Lend Me Your Comb

Some of us are of such a vintage that 77 can only ever mean one thing to us. In my case it is of my mother casting lustful sighs at Efrem Zimbalist Jr. I being very young, too young even to be hip, cast my juvenile eye at Edd Byrnes and his ever-present comb.

Attempts to present a hair comb to you today were thwarted by my lack of photographic skill. Instead, I have a pair of wool combs. Mindful of the week's "Green" assignment, I dressed my combs with some green-dyed Wensleydale locks.

I'm still norappy. I may shoot this again later today, I'll swap the lens first.