Had a hair cut the other day. It’s not an occasion that happens very often in my life; I have little of it left, though my wife did persuade me to grow it a little as by usual home-done buzz-cut was making me look more and more like either:
- A deranged, escaped mental patient; or
- A deranged, escaped convict
Either way, small children would scream if they saw me and old ladies clutched their handbags tighter. I did, however, like the ‘velcro head’ feeling that the close cut gave. Anyhow, I had the cut the other day (short back’n’sides and don’t take too much off the top…
At the end of the cut, my life hit an all time low. The barber got out his wee battery powered trimmer, neatened up the edges around my ears and neck, then stood back and said, in an expectant voice: “eyebrows?”
That’s that then. Back to home cuts from now on.
