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...

Haircut and Football

At last I had a haircut!
I was about to get one when Lock Down began so it brought back memories of losing the Hippy hair many years again when the Barber chopped all those lumps of grey hair from my head. Waking up with hair not indeed unlike a bad tempered used mop was becoming a bit wearing.  Now I no longer feel my hair growing into my shirt and can happily move my head almost all the way round now.  Not quite Owl like mind.
It was a while before I could find a free Barber.  All the shops I passed had people waiting or several being dealt with as I looked in.  The sight of Barbers wearing those face masks, those with glasses loose out as they steam up so wearing them appears difficult.  I was interested to hear the Barber had not been paid for 4 months.  I thought there was some money made available for businesses, though I suspect these guys work independently so miss out any cash, the boss may do well mind.
He was efficient and friendly enough, the result OK, not that I am one to fuss, and at least the hair is cut.  I need to go again, just before the next Lock Down begins in 6 months time!

Back home I have invested in NOW TV for Sky Sports once again.  I have done this a bit early, Scots football does not arrive for a few weeks yet, but already I have watched several not very good football games.  I also watched the English tedium called Cricket!  This was a bit tedium as not much happened when I watched and the 14 year old director spent far too much time making use of a moving drone and short 5 second pictures of individual players interspersed with each ball or repeats, and several of them, of incidents that for the most part need not be replayed.  Rather typical TV these days.  Then it got dark they went home, and I went back to football.

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...

     

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.