Gel sir?

There's only so much hair left on my head these days that soon a trip to the barber will be over, start to finish, in a little under two minutes. So while it lasts I find it's best to give it the attention it deserves. Attention yes, but I'm having trouble justifying to myself the £16 bill.

All I wanted was a quick trim. I went in, waited a few minutes reading a magazine, and then got into the chair. Fair enough, it was a mess. No shower this morning, a two hour wait in an airport, a one hour flight, another hour to work and a hassled day of cigarettes and coffee. Nobody facing those conditions is going to look like they just walked out of a salon. "Wash as well?" he asked. I knew what he meant. I had no choice. "Lean forward please."

This marked the first time anybody else has washed my hair since I was about 8 years old. A man in his late fifties began lathering my head. Soon, he had the hairdryer in my eyes. Then, a snip here and there before the clippers came out. That was it. Over. "£16 please". It costs £6 down the road.

Perhaps I'm not myself today. Perhaps it was the late onset of cheeriness that made me go for an impulse cut. But it needed doing before I went away, and now that I'm back it was time to toast being home. Look smart, the rest will follow.

Glad to be back. And at least the winner was a good bloke. Humble. That's scarce in these circles.