Hair

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I’ve not got any, but what a palaver for those who have – hair.

I find myself sat in a posh salon with my boy, as he gets his mop cropped with a poncy coffee and my own complementary biscuits, on an airline style tray.

Far cry from last time we had his hair cut; in a barbers which was so self consciously male – men blowing up and shooting stuff on cable TV, mags and leather chairs – that you couldn’t help feel the manly haircutters were more self-conscious than they were trying very hard to appear.

I’ve often thought if they came up with a cure for baldness, I’d turn it down. In my day I’ve plastered gel, wax, mousse and more on my then tufty top. But a quick buzz over the bathroom sink with clippers has done the job for many years now.

Hair today, gone tomorrow. I don’t miss it, but a free coffee is always nice.

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