I've been a victim of another dubious haircut. Not as bad as the last time., but disconcerting all the same.
To avoid the Butcher Arta, I made a Sunday appointment with Sonia. The only time she could see me was 8.30. Yes, in the morning, on a Sunday. I turned up for my clandestine appointment at the allotted time (can clandestine be in the morning? it has an after dark ring to it). As ever, she was running late - still doing the person before me (she was only doing the two of us today though, hence the odd hours) - but so as not to attract attention from any passers-by who might want a cut, she'd kept the lights out.
I haven't had my hair cut since the very bad one months ago so it was in need of a good cut. But then she got carried away. Cutting a little off here, then a little off there, then more off there to even it up, oops too much, more off the other side. It was like that episode of Father Ted were the prize car has a small dent in it that Ted tries to hammer out and then next thing you know the whole car is a wreck.
I've examined it - in every mirror in the house and the window of every shop and car I've walked past today and it isn't actually a bad haircut. Its soft and bouncy and healthy looking. But it just isn't me. I've always had long hair and although it had been creeping shorter, this now is definitely not long hair. Its above my shoulders. I don't look like me or perhaps too much like me as my face and neck are vulnerably exposed. People won't recognise me. I'll have to wear a name badge.