Saturday, March 05, 2005

Originally, this was all one sentence.

One of the many pettifogging annoyances of being a chap is the complete inability to explain how one would like one's hair cut. When I lived in Canterbury I built up a excellent relationship with Mike from Blake's Hair and Beauty (I only made appointments for the former part).

Mike looked a bit like Louis Theroux, and played lots of Playstation 2, and saw films, and we regularly put the world to rights. And then I moved back to Cornwall, without even taking the time to say goodbye to Mike properly, although I'm sure he saw me leaning against the window while he was cutting someone else's hair (and how long had that been going on?) my face flat against the glass, while I searched endlessly for the right words to bid farewell, my tears merging with the rain and running down into the medieval gutters, while the cathedral loomed overhead like a big building made of different types of stone.

So I went to have my hair cut on Friday. I used to have my hair a bit like Angel did in the second series of 'Angel'. Before he got fat. Even his hair got fat, which was weird. But then I let my hair grow, and it got straggly, and I tried to explain my hair-based needs thusly:

ME: Okay, my hair was about the perfect sort of length about two months ago. So can we go back in time two months and have it looking like it was then?
HAIRDRESSER: Essentially, no.
ME: Oh.
HAIRDRESSER: But I can take about an inch off it if you like.
ME: Okay then.

Only it's more than an inch. And if it was a bit more, that would be okay, or a bit less would be okay too. Instead of being just the right length to leave me looking like, say, Tanita Tikeram. With more stubble*. So now I'm going to have to stay in and play World of Warcraft until I run out of food, or my hair grows a bit, whichever comes first.

Although I did go out earlier to put some stuff in the compost bin, and when I took the lid off, at least four or five worms were clinging to the lid, eyes tightly closed, trying not to be noticed. And I'm sure that's happened before, only their jedi worm mind tricks didn't work this time (the one who could wave his hands like Alec Guiness was probably off that day), so the spell was broken and I remembered all the times worms had been clinging to the lid of my compost bin. Bloody loads, now I think of it.

But there's no soil under the lid. And don't worms traditionally ally themselves more towards the general notion (and motion) of 'down'? Maybe they have one rebel thinker, a Jonathon Livingstone SeaWorm who shouted 'Now lads! Head for the light and soon we shall rule the skies!'.

Or they're running a moonshine distillery/speakeasy in my compost bin, and when I'm gone, the bits of grapefruit peel and carrot tops all slide back to reveal blackjack tables and cocktail bars. I wouldn't put it past them. Never trust anything you can cut in half and watch crawl off in two separate directions, that's my motto.

Well, actually the Henry family don't have a motto as far as I know, although we do have a crest, (I think we got it off the internet) of a pelican feeding drops of its own blood to its young. I think it's supposed to make the younger Henrys feel guilty. I think the alternative images were two hands thrown up in despair. Or maybe a group of self-obsessed whimsies, rampant.

With a motto reading 'Harrumph'.

* Doesn't mean I look anything like her brother Raamon, by the way, who used to be in that series about lawyers who had lots of baths and was apparently in that thing on Friday. He doesn't get on with his sister though, from what I've heard.

12 comments:

Paul Pennyfeather said...

Lord Peter Wimsey's moto was I hold by my whimsey arms: Sable, 3 mice courant, argent; crest, a domestic cat couched to spring, proper.

I once sold Ramone some nappies in Sainsbury's in Canterbury. he wrote a very bad musical about Toulouse Lautrec....

james henry said...

Literary trivia, unusual wordage, and celeb gossip: possibly the ultimate blue cat comment. Housepoint to PP.

Willie Lupin said...

The numbering system for hair length has simplified things. I'm working downwards. I started at No 6 and now I'm on 4. My barber doesn't think I'll go to 1, but he underestimates me.
I loved your homage to Chris Langham (last sentence, Para. 2). If I'm right do I win a signed GW T Shirt for spotting it?

cello said...

You seem to have very classy compost. Grapefruit peel indeed. The worms were obviously baby worms because that's what toddlers do when they want to be invisible; close their eyes.

james henry said...

WL - any CL reference was entirely unconscious, sadly - which bit did you think was Langham-y?

Willie Lupin said...

"...while the cathedral loomed overhead like a big building made of different types of stone." That was pure People Like Us. In fact it prompted me to look for DVDs of the programme but I don't think there are any.

Fizzy good said...

Yes, there are.

That's all I had to say, I'll go away now. Please pardon my impetuous interruption.

BiScUiTs said...

They're selling them on Amazon if anyones interested.

BiScUiTs said...

It was really odd, I just popped on amazon and there it was in the 'Star Choice' bit in the corner. What a coincidence! Just thought I'd add that.

james henry said...

Ah, the mighty power of my blog. Or something. But, yes, that clearly was an unconscious 'People Like Us'-ism. If I ever get a GW t-shirt, one will go straight to WL.

Steve Dix said...

Over here in Cologne I have the same problem, but magnified x1000. The problem is, not only do I lack the correct German to tell my barber how to cut my hair, my barber is turkish, and doesn't understand me even when I get it right. The upshot of this is that I invariably end up with John Hurt's haircut out of "Midnight Express". I think its some sort of revenge for my grandfather being at Gallipoli.

Willie Lupin said...

Many thanks, Fizzy Good and Biscuits - sounds like a mid-morning snack.
I obviously didn't search hard enough. I'll conduct future such searches in this comment box.