Another Exciting Day in the life.....

Almost 5 am, I am awake.  

Again!

My preference is to rise around 7 am, here I am again awake at 5.

And awake it is.  No drowsiness, no yawning, no weariness appears.

Wide awake.

The street light has come on, soon followed by hints of the rising sun afar off.

At least those hints sneaking through the cloud cover.

Cars begin to pass by, sometimes three at a time, this because they stop at the traffic lights up the road.

Many have failed to stop at the red light, they are often halted outside my door by the unmarked police car and smug officer who at last has something to do.

The 7.5 ton bread van noisily heads up to Sainsburys.

An artic throbs its way in the opposite direction, his load removed and already an employee who wishes he was elsewhere is increasing the price of the goods left to astronomic levels.   

I am still awake.

5:15 am

I attempt to put noise into my head, on comes the radio built into the mobile.

All the programmes I have kept are rotten.

I do not want any at 5 in the morning!

Instead I put on the sound of lapping waves.

These will lure sleep back into my mind.

5:45 am still awake.

The lapping waves have been making me feel seasick so have been swapped for bird song.

6:01 am still wide awake.

What sounds like a bad tempered buzzard forces me onto Radio 3 while I seek gentle tinkling piano music.

Screeching opera woman finds mobile lying on floor!

6:20 am. Still awake.

My mind fills with bad thoughts, depressions, failures, and confusion.

7:16 am I awake tired and weary, groggily searching for the door and heading for breakfast.

I will be like this until my lunchtime nap.

Just on 10 am, washed, coffee'd, and weary, I am sitting watching grey hair being blown across the floor.  I suggest that it is actually Blonde, but the barber woman will not accept this.  She does accept the two pound coins as a tip on top off the £11 cost however.  

Suddenly feeling the air colder I head for a cheap trip round Tesco special offers, this was once again disappointing.  Hobbling home the air appears even chillier, though some Spring flowers are appearing in the gardens, this is encouraging.

15:16 pm.  Much work to do, cleaning, tidying, hoovering...

Luckily, the neighbour downstairs has come home early, this means I canny hoover, I may as leave the rest also, just in case it disturbs him...

A Supper Party - 1903   Julius LeBlanc Stewart (1855-1919)

A Wander

Yesterday morning, enticed out by a bright sun and deep blue sky, and also reduced prices for old men on Tuesdays, I wandered around to the 'Esquire Barber Shop' for a haircut.  A short prayer to ensure there were no queues succeeded, and one of the three busy lassies were soon tidying up the mess above my head. 

Leaving behind enough gray hair to make a 'Dulux Dog' I wandered about our ancient city contemplating the history, the coffee bars and the women.  The history we know, the coffee bars too dear, the women ignored me.  I wondered how many knew that on that side of the road a Roman complex of some sort once existed.  Could they imagine the Saxon Roundhouses down near the traffic lights?  Did the realise that the High Street did not exist until probably the late 1200s when it was erected to ease the Bishop of London and his men on the way to their chapel along the road?   I suspect few contemplated such things.  

St Michaels has  stood here in one form or another for well over 800 years.  Possibly a Saxon church was built before that, certainly Roman graves have been discovered near the spot.  The Romans were dead by the way.  At the rear is an alcove, if that's the word, where pilgrims passing by on their way to Bury St Edmunds to visit the dead saint would stop to worship.  Quite what stood there I know not, possibly a priest would allow them to congregate at certain times.  This ended with the Reformation, it was in a all the papers, and the pilgrims ceased passing by.

A gargoyle to remove excess water?  I wonder if he was modelled on one of the main men of the time?

There are a few werewolves around here I can tell you.

Some towns do not appear to have much history in themselves but the people who have lived there often do.  Notley Road, which leads you may guess to Notley, saw many men go off into the Great War, not all returned.  Percy Lanham from No 29 died of wounds at St Omer, way behind the lines, and was buried there.  His service was with the Army Service Corps, the people taking horse and cart full to ammunition and other supplies to the front.  It is likely a shell brought him down, though in war anything can happen.

Just a wee but further down the road, passed what once was the 'Angel' Pub on the other side of the street once stood a house of a famous name.  A man named Martin Kellogg lived there on Godlings Farm until he took off for the USA in the 1600s.  Possibly they were non-conformists and thought New England would be a free place to live.  Among the descendants of the Kellogg's 8 or 9 generations down, we find John Wayne and Clint Eastwood have connections.  Whoever they are.  The one we all know however, is William Keith Kellogg, a Seventh Day Adventist, like his family at the time.  He joined his brother John at his sanitorium, run on healthy vegetarian lines, until, after some problems, beginning what we now know as 'Kellogg's Corn Flakes.'  

This cereal was supposed to trap the sun in the corn and pass on the health benefits to the people.  You may question this, I find the packet tastes better myself.  Still, William was born in 1860 and died in 1951, so his health was good for a long time.

All this beginning, amongst much else, in Braintree!

One item noticed most days and not completely taken in is the pillar box.  A system for collecting stamped mail designed by William Trollope the novelist.  He was in charge of the Post Office in Ireland.  He did not get on with Rowland Hill, the top man who had developed the 'Penny Post,' but top men do not get on with one another often, do they?  Trollope travelled constantly and wrote many of his books while on the train.  As even today writing is not always easy on a moving train I wonder how he managed so well?  His books are very thick, this is because the 'Lending Library' charged money on each lend, and two volumes were not advantages to the shop.  Books to be used by the library, the best Victorian way to be seen, had therefore to come in three volumes or were rejected.  Trollope was not the only writer to grumble at this.

The box bears the letter 'GR,' indicating the box was built in the reign of King George.  He reigned from 1910 - 1936, and is not to be confused with King George VI who reigned from 1936-1952.  His stylised GR includes a VI above the letters.   We await the introduction of  King Charlies Post boxes.  I wonder what they will do re the ones in Scotland?    

In Scotland boxes did not have 'EiiR' as Scotland did not have a 'Queen Elizabeth' before 1952.  The Crown was used instead.  This is because many complained, and Westminster ignored them, until a box in Craigmillar was removed by a wee stick of Gelignite.  The PM at the time, Churchill, decided 'something must be done.' 

Barbers For Shearing

In an effort to lose weight I decided to make a start today.  I had a haircut!  Early today I limped round to the Market Square and entered the Barbershop.  Careful praying before leaving was required, Tuesday is 'Old Men's Reduced Price Day,' and therefore I wished to be first!  I entered a quiet shop. two chairs filled, and almost finished, an aged woman looked through aged magazines as she awaited her aged man, the quiet chatter continued as I slid into the seat and waited.

Shortly afterwards the far chair emptied, I was motioned forward, telling the woman, who done me last time, to finish the coffee she had been trying to scoop down.  She refused as by now it was cold anyway, indicating non stop work since opening. 

The chat was amiable, the hair removed in similar fashion to shearing sheep.  The machine bussed, the hair flew, large dollops falling to the ground as she spoke.  Eventually the job was complete, I felt a stone lighter, I saw my ears once again, and at my feet was sufficient wool to knit a pullover.  

I paid my £10, plus £3 more as a tip for more coffee, and almost skipped out the door past the five men now awaiting removal of the grey stuff.  I was happy, and the only dull note was Easter, when asked I mentioned I did nothing but attend church and the response was, er, hesitant.  A good shop however, but interesting.  Two women on today, clipping as hard as they can, though with many of the old boys awaiting there is plenty of room in the middle of the grey hair!

Back home I considered the jobs awaiting.

I ignored them.

So, back to ancient history.

This American lass wants info on the family line.  I have lost much of it and must scramble through what is left and what I have improved upon.  I am amazed at what I have recovered, and amazed at how hard all this is now.  Once it was fun, now it is difficult.  Especially as I am not back into the 1700s and unsure if these are the correct men.  Ho hum.

My father was born in Edinburgh, his father just across the border near Berwick.  The family were farmers, tenant farmers I assume, as they kept moving around.  It was probably the agricultural/economic downturn that drove my great grandfather into Berwick.  Here he ran a pub, 'The Black Swan' opposite the market place.  He also farmed 40 acres nearby.  This makes sense, his girls mostly ran the pub, one was deaf and dumb but worked there for many years, he could manage the small acreage, he had 175 acres before this, and my grandfather worked there also for a while as far as I can tell.  

Great grandfathers father also farmed, back in the 1700s.  How hard was this work?  His father also farmed, but it is dubious which man was his father, not because of 'hank-pankie' but the line offers one or two suggestions.  A lot of the lines include the name 'Robert.'  Father to son we see 'Robert,' and this name is found on all possible lines.  I am hoping this line goes back to the one called 'James!'

Now I am worn out by my mental efforts, it does not take much, and I seek rest and repose.  I may dream, as some can, of travel to far away places once visited, though the Scottish borders are not as warm as middle eastern places some have trudged about on.  I am lucky I can still make Tesco!

A Trip to the Barbers.

When people begin to offer me money "For a cup of tea," as I stand vacantly looking into shop windows, I realise it is time for a haircut.  Just as well the beard has not got far or I would be 'moved on' by the constabulary.  That is, if there were any passing by.  The days of the local Bobby have long gone, the police constantly tell us they can reach an incident quicker by car than by having a man walk the streets.  There is indeed truth in this.  However, shoppers in town centres feel more security when a man in uniform passes by occasionally.  This also gives more 'intelligence' regarding the people on the ground when a local copper is on the beat.  I note a nearby town has two 'Special Police officers' who operate on a beat regularly.  This is the type of thing that must be encouraged, as well as asking retired officers to work a couple of days occasionally also.  Many would as this would mean little overtime, much less stress, and quite often successful policing on the cheap.

Being the Wednesday Market the usual collection of stallholders were improving their tans while hoping to improve their wealth.  The sun shone, the clouds floated, and the English perambulated by in a Summer like manner, in spite of the chill in the wind.  Did that chubby lass with almost nothing on atop not notice the breeze?  Did her fat protect her as it does whales and Walrus's?  I am not sure where that comparison came from. 

I looked the other way as I passed the cake stall, wandered through the centre hoping for some action, which did not occur, and hobbled back down the newly laid pedestrianised High Street.  To imagine two way traffic going down here only 50 years ago blows the mind away, especially as buses went two ways also.  At least one photograph shows a 'coming together' at the corner of Sandpit Street, now 'Lane.'  Quite how they extracted the single decker from the corner shop I know not.     

I wandered along, tempted by the coffee shops but not by the bunting displayed everywhere for the monarchs Jubilee.  Small kids on bikes or scooters raced past, first one way then the other, mother seemingly unaware they were in the thoughts of several dodging their travels.  A black Labrador dog waited with the owner outside one shop, rising to greet someone who came out to speak to it, who then passed an item to the boss, and returned inside.  The dog was pleased with any acknowledgement, are they not all like that?  

I turned the corner and entered New Street.  Once this was notorious.  Four public houses stood here, three were renown for their 'entertainment.'  The Three Tuns, also known as 'Little Hell,'  The George Tavern,' also known as 'Great Hell,' and the 'Green Man, this was known to all as 'Perdition!'  It may surprise you to know that the 'Cage,' the town 'Lock up,' much in use until a Police Station was erected, was located at the bottom of this street.  Two 6 ft cells often entertained visitors as much as the pubs.  The 'Three Tuns,' has long been absorbed into other buildings.  'The George long since knocked down and rebuilt as shops and offices, and the 'Green Man' now a house, though I think in fact it is now offices. 

My barber, sorry, Hairdresser, was empty when I arrived.  Being market day he has less customers than usual.  He complained that on market day "...people just come to shop, no-one comes for a haircut!"  As the one man just about to leave was also a pensioner this meant little profit for the Bar.. hairdresser today.  There again, £9:50 is a lot for a haircut, especially when some of his customers have so little hair unlike I.  

but This man likes himself, he is not so keen on me.  Most of his customers are 'Brexiteer' English types, who share his views and predilections.  I must be careful when I speak as a man with a sharp pair of scissors is not a man to argue with when roused.  His desire to speak well of Boris Johnson was indeed a trying time.  However, we agreed that Boris had indeed, "Spat in the face of his voters," and almost agreed he ought to be hung up.  

One thing was clear, Boris spoke for such as he, and I suspect many here.  Boris has touched the English Imperialist heart, he has made them believe he will stop all those black men spoiling 'their' country, and they still believe in him.  This when they know him to be a liar, untrustworthy, unfit for the job, yet many will still support him come election time.

No wonder dictators have long time support.  How  can it be ended?

I stumbled home across the park, greeted by a dog with a ball in its mouth.  It did not want to throw it, the Beagle (?) just wanted to greet me (twice) and hide behind the seat with the ball.  He had no intention of letting me touch his ball!  He gave every evidence of being happy, though finding the heat a bit much.

Thrilled with my popularity, with dogs, I came home to find the Blackbird singing for me.  As I badly concocted a form of lunch he disappeared, his place later taken by the wood pigeon who normally takes that spot.  

After lunch I played with my mobile phone.  I deleted things that were no longer required, attempted to delete a call from the other day and ended up calling a man on holiday in Amsterdam!  I could not work out how to stop the call!  What sort of an idiot designed these things?  Why are they so complicated? The laptop is so much easier to operate, why not the phone?  Bah!  Now, two texts at Amsterdam prices, prices which increased after Brexit, I have no idea how much this has cost us and am afraid to look.  I will hear in a week or so mind...

Good Tuesday

A day of joy and happiness once again.  Rising early to enjoy the sunshine, well after a healthy  breakfast of 'Tesco Malted Wheats,' I'm sure the nurse would approve, I planned my day. 

A wash, shave, a time tissue papering the many cuts, I must change that blade this week, then out for a haircut.  Another £9:50 well spent, and I am now aware of the barbers, or is she a hairdressers back problems.  Enjoyable time.  A nice morning to walk across the park, in spite of the wind and a gentleman who appears to indulge in what we call 'Learning Difficulties,' yelling at his partner/friend/ wife/ daughter/ unsure, as he came down the road and took her into the bushes at the park.  The yelling continued for some time.  These bushes, opposite the unwelcome skatepark, have been responsible for many a teenage pregnancy over the past few years.  

This did not disturb my happy day, indeed the bright yellow of the Daffodils cheers me when I passed as indeed it does for many others.  Several have been getting the camera/phone out to picture the daffs or placing the family among them.  Rude people though have been stealing them for home consumption.  

Anyway a lunch of Tesco 'Cranberry, Raisin and Cashew Bread,' with leftover ham, was good enough to allow me to waste time for a while.  It also, after coffee, encouraged me to develop the ache in my back by cleaning the fridge.  I am not sure when I last cleaned it, was it before Lockdown?  Anyway, it is done now and even if not exactly sparkling it is almost acceptable.  I cleaned the top shelf of the oven yesterday, which encouraged my back to join my knees in declaring enough was enough, but a second shelf may get done tomorrow, maybe.

This evening, joy and joy, Dunfermline are on TV playing Partick Thistle, a must watch. 

Indeed it was, a 4-1 win for the Pars takes them off the bottom of the table and makes them feel like a football team again.  They might even stay up now.

 

 

Twitter remained its depressing self today.This corrupt government continues to lie about Ukrainian refugees and everything else.  Today they passed a law which means any Ukrainian refugee without papers can be jailed for 4 years!  To call them heartless racists is quite mild.  

The Tory bots have been attacking the Ratcliffe woman, just released from Iran, for not being grateful for what Boris has done for her.  Boris caused her to be interred for 6 years and failed to get her out, why should she be thankful?  The Tory propaganda machine is hard at work, I have been attacked a couple of times on Twitter through this.  I notice tonight it is still continuing.  

The heartless money greedy Tory, determined to encourage xenophobia and racism, glad Brexit occurred whatever the cost, to others that is, is willing to make all peoples suffer for their ideology.

I remain convinced this is a judgement.

 

 

Shorn Men and Morrisons

From my eyrie in the sky I watch shorn men wandering about, their hair tidy for the first time in months.  This causes me to wonder what they do with all the shorn hair?  Now I suspect for health reasons this is dumped, however, is there anyone who would buy a job lot of used hair?  You could fill soft toys with it, pillows, cushions, feed it to animals who may not care what they eat, possibly such leavings could be put on the compost heap and added to the garden, the ticks therein would feed the ground quite well.  

You can tell just how much LockDown has got to me...

People all around are meeting folks unseen for months, the cry "I haven't seen you since the plague" is quite common I note.  Families can bother one another, mates meet up outside pubs, women chattering noisily outside coffee haunts all around.  Still too chilly for me I say but many are risking it.  At the barbers one man told us how he headed for the local as soon as he could, having a Guinness and a sandwich and heading back home where it was warm.  A bit daft I thought, if it's that chilly stay indoors in the warm.  Some folks of course have no life outside of pubs, that is where they meet their friends as they may have no-one else to talk to.  All rather sad really.

 

 

 

'Morrisons' have upset people.  They are plastering their goods with this Union Flag.  It is on eggs, butter, cheese, veg and all other products.  Clearly this is a Government initiative.  Tesco have done this for a while, refusing to allow Scots or other flags on their produce.  I noticed today a Twitter account I follow, for an English regiment, now features the Union Flag alongside the name, a new item. 

This may well be a Brexit legacy.  The idea to force people to 'Buy British!'  The point being Brexit has stopped the goods we actually want coming into the country.  The fact that Scots, Welsh and Northern Irish flags are not encouraged also indicates government policy, forcing the Union nonsense upon us all in an election year.  

There is no 'Morrisons' in this town now.  They took over a failing store and failed to make it a success as the premises are too small for their needs.  A 'B&M' now uses the space well.  'Morrisons' have a store six miles away next to the station at a London overspill town.  This store has worked well for years and no doubt will continue to be a success as that is also a Brexit town.  'Morrisons' always made a thing about being cheaper than the bigger stores, this indeed is quite true, until you compare sizes.  Their tins, bottles, bags are cheaper but contain less goods than 'Tesco,' the contents are not always better, though they are acceptable, and now with Brexit shortages much more 'British' goods will be pushed by this company. 

Of course it goes without saying that when they use the term 'British,' what they are really trying to say is 'English,' but even they are not yet that brazen.

 

Haircut, Football and Church

 

I sauntered up the road this morning after waiting for the Royal Mail van delivering my parcel.  He raced by which meant he did not have it, so out I went.  I headed for the barbers shop and wondered why no one was waiting outside.  Other barbers had queues of several people huddled from the chilly wind.  The reason, this was a shop big enough to seat several inside.  Not that social distancing was too perfect here.  Eventually a young lady sheared my gray locks and charged me £9:50 plus tip, for the pleasure.  It was a weight off my mind, indeed the head no longer feels like I am wearing a hat!

 

My saunter afterwards took me across the park.  The cold air contrasted with the bright sunshine, except when clouds decided to appear and spoil it!  And while the crossing is a short one it is good to walk among trees and grass with an occasional bird in the air around you.  

As I opened the door I was suprised to find that Chris the postman had already been, he usually arrives around 12:30.  I was also surprised to find a red ticket telling me he had my parcel!  Bah!  I sat at the window watching the park for a while, drinking tea and eating chocolate buttons, my diet has gone haywire again, watching to see if I could catch Chris as he returned across the park from his final drop. I never saw him.  Either he finished very early or is still with one of his women across the park.  So my packet will not be delivered until Thursday now!  Bah!  I used to wander to the sorting office to collect them but that is too far to walk at the moment.

 

 

As Chris had not appeared and as the bag of chocolate buttons appeared near the end I took it unto myself to get out and cross the park once again.  The sun had returned, people were enjoying the air and I just had to get my stiff knees out there.

I crossed slowly and at the Congregational Church decided to venture into the graveyard, where I have often been before, and found myself taking pictures of the names on the stones once again.  In the past I have looked up the names where I can and found some interesting (to me) stories of people who lie there.  I hope to investigate some later.  The wildlife is found here but is very scared of movement. Today only a wood pigeon or two were faffing around.  

I hobbled back home, slouched for a while, ate chicken from Sainsburys, and later attempted to watch Dunfermline playing Dundee.  This (very poor) game began at 6 pm, but I also had to watch the Curate getting made a Vicar on Facebook at 7:30 along at St Johns.  While Covid rages churches are adapting to social media!  This involved digging out the aged laptop, setting it up early, with much swearing and faffing around, before it was usable.  Then, settled in my bed, I also had to call a friend (my second family) on her 80th birthday while watching the football and preparing the other laptop for the church event.

This was all very confusing.

Eventually a very tired me got it all done, very badly, saw the poor game, spoke, or rather listened, to my friend, watched Vicar Colin in his robes, wondered about much of this event, especially the submitting to the Queen bit, and was glad he was at last, after 8 and a half long years of trying, now at last a vicar, and that over 5 churches!

Good Lord!

 

 

Town Shopping

Searching for a decent birthday card that hadto be posted today for a birthday tomorrow.  Today shops opened and I headed for 'Clinton's' wide choice of mediocre cards.  Lucky for me the place was empty, plenty of cards available, but as expected not a really suitable one was seen.  However, one rude enough for a woman denying she is 80 was found and posted later (only 2nd class stamps available, tsk!).

The shops in town were not as busy as feared.  Queues of scraggy men waited outside barbers (sorry 'Men's Hairdressers') and queues were also seen at banks.  Otherwise the shops were not overflowing.  Several charity shops were open, and as a quick look was required I was inside quickly, more cards bought and now I have a reasonable amount for the next birthday, I suspect however, none will fit the person that day!  It is always the way.

 

 

Some time back the town and county councils dug up the High Street, relaid the road with lots of nice red bricks, stopped all traffic yet allowed single and double deck buses to pass along hourly.  It took only a few years for the wheels to dig in and ravines to form on either side of a mountain in the middle. Puddles during rain, people falling when crossing the road, cyclists illegally running the wrong direction until they fall off, and much outcry as to why this was happening.

Now a million or so has been spent to repair this road.  

Last year a group of workers happily blocked everybody, dug up the road, repaired pavements, installed new 'stumble proof' areas, and by Xmas had been dumped by the council.  Too slow, not good enough or inept, I am not sure.  We await a new contracter arriving to finish the job, he will be here soon...

In the meantime the half finished work is hidden behind bright orangy red barriers, people shuffle by, masked and disciplined sort off for the most part, and we await developments, eventually.

 

The other week I was busy doing Spring cleaning.  This led to much hassle last week when my knees reacted, tiredness swept over me and I could do nothing all week.  Tsk!  Innit marvellous?  

Today was the first time out this weekend, round the town, shopping in reopened shops and that was feeling like a new experience, and noting a barber with no queue, I will look in tomorrow!

People were sitting outside coffee shops, with the temperature not that high.  Were the pubs open?  I did not notice, it was lunchtime but I never gave them a thought.  I did read that those sitting outside pubs had to wear masks.  This begs the question how do they drink?  

 

 

Prepare for 'Lock Down.'

The news of a month long 'Lock Down' brought out the people this morning.  I noticed Sainsburys car park busier than usual, the Barbers I reconnoitered all had queues outside or were busy indoors.  This was not good as I was again the owner of a Beethoven like hairstyle and required shearing before 'Lock Down' begins.  An urgent prayer was launched and 'Lo' I passed a Barber I had forgotten about, empty, being swept clean, and no queues.  One slight problem with the job was his comment as I queried the £9:50 charge, 

"You're a pensioner aren't you?" he said.  

'Pensioner!'  Me?  I am 32!!!  

I kept quiet at this as I did nto want the cost increased to £15 and I also did not wish to hear more heartfelt laughter as I said "32."  

I was glad of this however as I need a regular Barber, I fell out with the last one, some people will not take a telling!

Anyway, while the masses crashed around the supermarkets this left 'Iceland' free of crowds.  Being famed for frozen foods they do not stock much of the stuff panic buyers want, therefore this left me free to panic buy what I required to fill the freezer!  So, bar a need to panic buy ground Black Pepper at the moment I have no need to panic, milk and bread can wait till Wednesday.  I will now go to the shops and smugly look down on those rushing around the shelves.  

 

Barber!

Clipartstation

Today I had a haircut!

This haircut took THREE QUARTERS OF AN HOUR!!!!!

Yes indeed, almost half my day was spent in a barbers this lunchtime! 

The day started in the normal manner, I went back to bed after breakfast, and went downhill from there.  The idea was to visit the local shop for a haircut.  This proved impossible, not only were they busy but Jim was on all alone and he does not like me.  So I mused on another barbers, there are about 17 male and female hairdressers of various sorts in this small town, and I chose one that had been recommended situated next to Tesco.  This was the type of barber old men go to and I had a view in my mind what he may be like.

I WAS WRONG!

A man was having his hair cut, a man of, er, mature years.

A second was awaiting his turn.

I sat staring out the window at the world passing by.

I sat and waited.

I waited.

I waited.

I waited.

After a considerable time the barber (or was he a hairdresser?) finished fussing rather too attentively to his customer, clearly a regular.

He left.

The second man took his place in the seat (bought second hand from a dentist I wondered?) and the operation began.

I sat staring at the world passing by.

I waited.

I waited.

I waited.

The barber, as he had with the first man, fussed and fretted and talked.  

Man did he talk!!!

I waited.

I waited checking my watch every time the Town Hall clock opposite chimed.

I waited.

I waited and considered having to shave again when I got home.

Eventually my turn came.

The seat awaited me, I struggled to stand having been sitting since dawn and crossed the floor of the once well maintained shop. 
He asked my desire.

I bit my lip and avoided using the word 'quick' and explained why the mop on my head required fixing.

He began chopping, talking, fussing, combing, talking, fussing, cutting, combing, talking, on and on and on....

Eventually he finished. 

The haircut was perfectly acceptable.

He was still talking.

I rose slowly from the seat and walked through a mass of grey hair wondering where it came from.

Replaced my jacket and enquired as to the price.

£11 he charged!  £7 at Chris & Jims.

I noticed he only took £10 from the previous customer.

I said nothing, after ageing greatly of the previous hours I did not care to argue, I just wished to leave and get away from his talking.  I paid and made for the door.  he talked, he spoke, he talked and only another customer, yet another well into his 70's, entered, did I manage to make my escape.

The light had changed considerably since I had got up.  

As I walked into town I was struck by how quiet everything was, something I had not noticed before. Usually buses, cars, passers-by, talking women, music, workers children and other noises were noticeable. Today it all appeared so quiet.

I may go elsewhere next time...

     

Watching...

FreeFoto

Sitting in the barbers for what seemed like an aeon I passed my time people watching.  This is not something I normally do, there again I do not normally sit in public places where I can people watch, but today as men with what I thought short hair queued up to have it shortened further I leered out the window as passing female shapes and became interested in what I fleetingly glimpsed.

With kids in school mums, young and old, passed by aiming for the shops to the right of us, occasional pushchairs accompanied them.  From the bus park opposite a flurry of movement as a bus arrived and disgorged its occupants, they clutching bags of treasures, some just clutching each other as they left the zimmer bus.  College youths passed by in groups, the girls likewise always in threes, never alone, each with an identification badge hanging round the neck in case they forget who they are.  I doubt anyone would wish to impersonate such as these badly dressed teens.  It is noticeable just how badly teens dress.  We must have done the same but to our minds we were 'cool,' these folks today are just a mess!  It is important t dress in similar fashion as your peers but with a clear personal slant that speaks of 'you,' so that by looking like everyone else you stand out from the crowd.

Men of a certain age ("cough") pass by dressed as they have done since around 35 years of age and finding no good reason to change now.  Some dressed by their woman in M&S outfits others are indicating a rock and roll past with a bright shirt more suitable for a man twenty years younger.  Still others walk in the sunshine wearing shorts and thin shirts determined to pretend summer is still alive.  

Those awaiting the shearing reveal their occupation by their dress sense let alone the constant calls on their mobile phones.  Well fed and well built men with a determined attitude, dressed in t-shirt and well pocketed shorts reveal they are builders.  Their short conversations offer us the chance to estimate how much the wood will cost, who is responsible for the TCU (what?) and nothing is mentioned about the price.  Presenting a macho, tough approach is important among such men, it would not do to appear to be human, however the conversation with the barber reveals that they are human and concerned about their kids in spite of appearances.  

A young estate agent in tight fitting suit is glimpsed, they all look the same and leave you asking if you would buy a used car from them.  A van delivering ice cream (ice cream delivery?) halts over the road leaving the question "Who gets ice cream delivered from the 'Aroma' company?'  The taxi drivers parked on the other side dress in well used shirts chatting aimlessly while attempting to make a living.  Some have been there for over twenty years at this job.  I was told about ten years ago that such taxis then cost £300 a week to hire, add to that a need to earn similar to pay your way indicated that you need a lot of journeys to break even.  Many people use the taxis while shopping, the bus does not always go near your door in the outer reaches.  Late night revellers require them long after the bus has gone home and many make money whenever the trains arrives at the station. However it must be profitable for some but seems a risky work to me.

Young women dressed to attract similar males pass by, usually accompanied again, only women in business dress walk alone while clamping a phone to the ear, not a few of them, I wonder what they do?  Women with little care for how they dress appear, down at heel or have they always been like this? It surprised me to see how many people suffering mental limitations went past, some clearly from birth others possibly from accident.  Does the sun bring them out I wonder?  How difficult some peoples lives have been, made much harder by this grasping governments refusal to pay benefits and allow many to be thrown onto the streets and for others to die!  Today I spent a little while getting angry at the 'Daily Mail' commentators who refuse to pay taxes for 'scroungers and layabouts!'  This is partly because that is what the paper has told them and party because they wish to believe it.  Basically they are just greedy and do not wish to pay a penny towards caring for others. That is the basis of the Conservative Party policy and many grasping greedy people rush towards it.

They will be the first to demand benefits when they become sick.

       

Chris & Jim's

The other day I had my hair cut. I think it's important you know this, just so you do not think that I sit here like some unemployed scruffy ageing hippy! Indeed I am so concerned to send the right signals to those about me that I have doubled my bath time. Yes indeed, I bathe on Tuesday as well as Sunday now. Indeed, if luck is with me the man next door might throw out one of his old disposable razors and I can have myself a shave also. It's good to care for ones appearance I say!

Chris and Jim are to lads who have opened this shop and developed the place into the towns premier barbers, sorry, hairdressers. Their approach to their customers, their attitude, humour and far from exorbitant pricing has brought them a good solid customer base. So much so they have now one or two others helping out at times. However the barmaid like blond working the day I went in was not allowed to run her fingers through my tresses for reasons that were not made clear. Maybe it was the way I suggested this idea.......

One thing is for sure, while these two may be excellent hairdressers they would never make a success among the trendies, there is no fear of these two running their fingers through your golden locks. A wrong word about their teams latest defeat might mean an accidental slicing of one off your ears mind!

Their sides, Spurs and Liverpool, mean that they are not in a position to laugh at the Heart of Midlothian. This is an advantage as some among us would confirm. Nothing worse than listening to someone who has a side that is top of their division, heading for glory, cash rich, and, in my view, heading for a fall...hopefully! With the cranky directors and lack of success enjoyed by their clubs they are not in a position to laugh at Vlad, after all, they could be next!

I am amazed at how many barbers/ hairdressers there are in this town. There are only around thirty five thousand souls dwelling here, and there seems to be an ever increasing number of such 'salons' to cope with them. We have six barbers alone in the town centre, and five at least for the lassies. This does not take account of those who freelance from friend to friend for half the price and twice the gossip. Nor the shops I have not noticed as keeping note of the females dens around here is something I tend not to do. Having said that I am tempted to stand at the window sometimes and look in. When I visit Chris & Jim's I sit there until called, have a sheet to catch the hair (where does that gray come from?), and then allow my swollen head to swing from side to side as they hack their way through the foliage. Females I note, tend to sit their with their heads covered in bits of paper. From the perspective of the passerby it looks as if they are a Christmas tree covered in kids requests for free stuff or maybe a horse dressed up for the local gymkhana. A cynic who knows the lass involved may feel obliged, when the ordeal is over, to point out that, allowing for the sixty, seventy, or even a hundred pounds that have changed hands, there is little change to be seen. A wise cynic of course keeps his trap shut.

But what are they doing in there? How long does it take to have your hair done? Considering the neurotic nature of women, and their absurd fascination with things that do not matter, the horror if one hair is out of place must make such employment fit only for those who have great patience, or are just fusspots! I just say to the lads, 'Chop it off,' and they do. It looks OK, and no-one laughs, at least not like the time my friend Christine cut my hair for me. It was going well until I sat down and she placed on my knee a book called, 'Hairdressing at home.' Somehow I felt this may not go well. However, from the front it looked OK to me, although I am not a 'fusspot' about such things. It was when I went to my then regular barber, George the Greek, I realised that things were not what they ought to be. He leaned over and asked, 'I didn't cut this, last time did I?' The look of relief on his face when I said .'No,' made me realise just how bad things had been.

She didn't get the chance to do it again, no matter how she pleaded.