Bernard O'Shea: I washed my hair with rainwater — and discovered unexpected perks

In a parched Irish summer, I faced the icy shock... was it worth it?

Bernard O'Shea. Photograph Moya Nolan

Let's face it, living in Ireland, one does not usually get much sun, making the recent weeks of blazing sunshine a surreal spectacle. Our everyday routine turned upside down as raincoats and umbrellas were swapped for summer hats, debatable Hawaiian shirts and sunglasses.

The sudden switch from our typical damp environment to an unusually dry one was not just a pleasant change. Still, it also presented a myriad of new possibilities. There was "great drying out," as we remember. Clothes fluttered on the lines, swiftly drying in the welcome warmth and light, a chore that usually involves battling with our trusted tumble dryer. In our house, our ESB bill has probably dropped by half.

But while humans revelled in the sun, our gardens painted a different story. Flowers were languishing in their boxes, wilting under the unaccustomed heat. To counteract this, my wife would water them each evening. It was such a beautiful sight to see our children helping their mothers. The way our offspring drenched almost everything that didn't need water, including their mother, was one of those beautiful head-wrecking moments in life that I decided to stay clear of.

Even though the sunny weeks felt magical, I realised the rainfall I frequently complain about was desperately needed. When the sun disappeared, and the first torrential rain arrived I accidentally left a wheelbarrow out overnight, and it filled with water by morning. 

Staring at the wheelbarrow, I realised how much water a single night's rain could provide and wondered what I could do with it. I also realised that the water was crystal clear as I had yet to (and have yet to) use the aforementioned barrow for any manual labour.

Drawing inspiration from a childhood memory, I remember my mother washing my sister's hair in rainwater. The aim was to make her hair extra soft. I decided to give it a try myself. I washed my hair in the wheelbarrow's rainwater for five consecutive days, and here are my observations.

According to Dr Lata Ganji, a senior product development executive at SkinKraft Laboratories, "Overusing very hot water causes stress to your tresses, and you'll land up with frizzy, brittle and dry hair. Also, hot water causes hair loss because the heat makes your hair weak, and thus it tends to fall out." But I'm not one for taking advice from seasoned professionals. I wouldn't go with lukewarm or warm water; I wanted the Arctic experience.

First and foremost, washing your head in cold water is horrific. It's a shock to the system, but it's a wake-up call, guaranteed to bring a sluggish mind into sharp focus. This experience reminded me that most cold receptors are on your face. Immersing your head in cold water can have the same benefits as full cold water immersion, from improving circulation to boosting mood.

And you'd be surprised how much quicker you wash when the water is cold! There's no luxuriating under a warm shower. Instead, it's all about speed and efficiency but mainly speed. I'd dunk my head in the barrow, then take it out and add the shampoo and scrub as quickly as possible. Then I'd dip my jug in the barrow, fill it and rinse the suds. It was horrible, one of the most idiotic undertakings I've pursued for this column. But as the old saying goes, you don't look a full barrow of water in the face.

However, an unexpected perk was that my hair indeed felt softer. The hard water in our area can take a toll on hair, making it feel brittle and dry. Rainwater, naturally soft, felt like a tonic, and my hair seemed to revel in it, becoming noticeably silkier and healthier. I was, for five days, a walking Timotei ad (replace flowing blonde locks for ditch-like red bristles.)

The biggest lesson was the stark realisation about my excessive water consumption. I had been using too much from the tap washing my hair, even when limiting the length of my showers.

So, would I recommend it? Why not? It could lead to some enlightening soft follicle discoveries, just like it did for me. By the way, my wife is screaming at me, "We could have used that water for the plants, you idiot."