This morning I checked out my face while shaving and there waving it’s hands and doing summersaults was a grey hair. This recalcitrant little bugger had done this before. It always seems to happen when my hair needs a cut. For some reason this loan ranger sticks his bloody head up and wont blend in with the other hairs. No he has to wave the bloody Union Jack. So a date with the Barber was imminent.
The day has been awful nothing but rain. Hard rain, light rain and the very slight powdery kind of rain which just manages to get you wet when you think it is nothing at all, then you’re soaked to the skin. I endured the short journey to my Barber’s in this rain. And when I walked into the shop, hardly anyone was there. It was then I became enlightened. Always get your hair cut on a rainy day. There had been cues here before which had me waiting nearly an hour before I got a seat. But the rain had done something wonderful. It had washed away the general public. I will in future use every rainy day to my advantage and fill them with lots of things I need to do. Even the roads weren’t busy either. Rain, rain come and stay, cos the people go and stray. Or rather lay in bed all day with depression. Great, it only led to my happiness, I must be a misanthropist. Do I care? Rain I how about a big soppy kiss.
The Barber shop is a Turkish affair normally. I’ve seen a number of different hairdressers perhaps their Visa’s run out or they get a job somewhere else. Occasionally I get one who wants to talk to me all the time and try out his English. I don’t mind when this happens because I get to know a different person who I usually will never meet again in my life. You can have some interesting conversations. This time though there stood a woman, white not tanned and had dyed blond hair. As I walked in she had motioned me to sit in her chair. My heavy wet coat off, I then sat down. And casually told her exactly what I wanted. There was an assumption here I had made. I thought she was English. It turned out she was not, I think probably Polish. But she eventually got the gist of what it was I wanted. I didn’t say much at all. I closed my eyes concentrated on relaxing and meditated while she cut my hair. There is something about getting my hair cut which makes me do this. It was wonderful. Except she didn’t know how to burn the stubborn hairs growing out of my ears. Only one Turkish Barber I’ve had has ever done a good job of burning them and I think at the time he practically set my ears on fire, but was quick enough to fan them out. If I ever see him again I’ll be in his seat, unfortunately it was a one off. Shame all Barbers should learn how to burn hairy ears.
Today I learnt through another experience there are two things you can not avoid, growing old and getting hairy ears. No, I meant wet in the rain. Now if the Barber were to try and burn my ears in the rain, I don’t think it would work. Pity the rain would put my ears out. Otherwise I’d could run up and down the road like a crazy man ears on fire. Something else which would get rid of the cues no doubt.
The day has been awful nothing but rain. Hard rain, light rain and the very slight powdery kind of rain which just manages to get you wet when you think it is nothing at all, then you’re soaked to the skin. I endured the short journey to my Barber’s in this rain. And when I walked into the shop, hardly anyone was there. It was then I became enlightened. Always get your hair cut on a rainy day. There had been cues here before which had me waiting nearly an hour before I got a seat. But the rain had done something wonderful. It had washed away the general public. I will in future use every rainy day to my advantage and fill them with lots of things I need to do. Even the roads weren’t busy either. Rain, rain come and stay, cos the people go and stray. Or rather lay in bed all day with depression. Great, it only led to my happiness, I must be a misanthropist. Do I care? Rain I how about a big soppy kiss.
The Barber shop is a Turkish affair normally. I’ve seen a number of different hairdressers perhaps their Visa’s run out or they get a job somewhere else. Occasionally I get one who wants to talk to me all the time and try out his English. I don’t mind when this happens because I get to know a different person who I usually will never meet again in my life. You can have some interesting conversations. This time though there stood a woman, white not tanned and had dyed blond hair. As I walked in she had motioned me to sit in her chair. My heavy wet coat off, I then sat down. And casually told her exactly what I wanted. There was an assumption here I had made. I thought she was English. It turned out she was not, I think probably Polish. But she eventually got the gist of what it was I wanted. I didn’t say much at all. I closed my eyes concentrated on relaxing and meditated while she cut my hair. There is something about getting my hair cut which makes me do this. It was wonderful. Except she didn’t know how to burn the stubborn hairs growing out of my ears. Only one Turkish Barber I’ve had has ever done a good job of burning them and I think at the time he practically set my ears on fire, but was quick enough to fan them out. If I ever see him again I’ll be in his seat, unfortunately it was a one off. Shame all Barbers should learn how to burn hairy ears.
Today I learnt through another experience there are two things you can not avoid, growing old and getting hairy ears. No, I meant wet in the rain. Now if the Barber were to try and burn my ears in the rain, I don’t think it would work. Pity the rain would put my ears out. Otherwise I’d could run up and down the road like a crazy man ears on fire. Something else which would get rid of the cues no doubt.
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