I have been a more or less regular visitor at the hairdresser ever since reaching the point in my life when I had control over my hair. I have gone through the booking an appointment in advance process, blocking out an hour and a half of my day and paying a lot of money for the privilege. That’s not to say I haven’t enjoyed it. I have rather enjoyed the pampering.
Then, while in Sweden, I popped into a barber. I just walked in and asked if I could get a haircut. The guy said yes and, on the spur of the moment, my locks were chopped. And it didn’t take very long.
Today I was walking up Castle Street when I noticed a man getting a haircut in the barber shop. I poked my head in and asked if I could get one too. The barber smiled and nodded. I walked in, sat down and a lovely chap with scissors, sorted out my annoying hair.
It was annoying because the guy in Sweden managed to get my parting wrong and, as it grew, it started flopping in my face, especially when I cooked. That was fixed this morning, again on the spur of the moment, and I’m very happy with the result.
I was also very pleased with the price. The barber, having cut and cleaned me up, said the price was £9. I was shocked and asked why it was so cheap. “This is the old aged pensioner price,” he proudly declared. “I’m not an OAP!” I retorted. This made the other two chaps burst into laughter.
Following my outburst, the barber was mortified. He quickly backpedalled and said it was £13. And then I was greeted with another shock when he declared that he needed cash. I had to go to the ATM and withdraw £20. I still thought £13 was ridiculously cheap. I gave him £15 and smiled all the way home.
Mind you, it did mean I had to trim my beard as it was looking a bit scraggy, particularly with the new hair.
Most of my day was then spent making pre-prepared meals for Mirinda for when I’m away. Well, apart from walking into town to get ingredients. And the unexpected hair cut.
On the way in, I was surprised at the range of litter I came across.
Of course, there was a number of examples of the Pandemic Cigarette Butt. Here’s one of them.
And, in Long Garden Walk, the usual fast food container unceremoniously dumped outside someone’s house.
And, finally, a rather odd and obviously unintended bit of litter.
Sitting at the edge of the path, three full cans of a four pack of beer. Of course, the person who bought them may have tasted the first one and decided it was so disgusting he was going to leave the other full cans. Hopefully, the experience changed the person into a drinker who prefers using his taste buds.
Apparently we have 55 volunteers, who regularly pick up litter in our town. And well done all of them, I say. I used to pick up random bits, but then, that was when I wasn’t using a walking stick and wheeling a trolley. These days I’d probably just fall over and become so much litter myself.
Mind you, there’s no way I’d be picking up someone’s face mask. Not without gloves, antiseptic and one of those crap grabbers the volunteers employ so effectively.