Phil walked in with a smart new haircut. This was rare. He's one of those characters who generally seems to have taken a knife and fork to his hair whilst leaning over the bathroom sink, and then finished it off with a three-week old razor, just to give his ears a bit more airspace. His glasses too, look as though they're held together with sellotape. So presenting himself conspicuously tidily was worth a compliment. "I had it done free," he stated, "as a model for a trainee. Just down Eccleshall Road".
He had me hooked. Through my community years, I've engaged with haircutting from two directions. First, where I could get done, traditionally free, and by someone who had half an idea. And then learning to give them, both with scissors and an electric trimmer, as a small contribution to my brethren's welfare. (Nape hair is the great amateurish give-away; I have a thing about it.) But when I moved to Leeds, I gave this up as one job too many in a busy life, and because David (living with us) was pretty good. He was grateful to inherit my kit. And I'd also conceded that popping down from the Jesus Centre to the walk-in emporium at the bottom of the Moor for a pensioners afternoon £3 concessionary was just a no-brainer. Free, at a professional barbers, sounded too good not to explore.
Now this was May, when winter hadn't really packed up and gone, and the forecast was grim (you remember the miserable Whitsun Bank Holiday?). But I was due for two weeks in India in September, and a bit of forward thinking could have me ready with a buzz cut for the guaranteed high temperatures, whatever the English summer may bring in-between. I rang Alex, on the number advertised in the shop window: "A number 4?" "Yes; sure. Come down after 1.30pm." I don't understand why I was surprised that Alex was a lady.
I was ushered to a seat at the far end and introduced to Christian. "Number 4 all over?" Alex enquired. "It'll seem short." True, I had grown quite a thatch since my last haircut. It had been particularly stylish, swept up from one side with a blower. It hadn't stayed looking tidy for much more than a couple of weeks. Christian was nervous. Maybe me pulling out my hearing aids hadn't helped. "Did I drag you away from anything important?" he politely enquired. "Nah, I do some charity work, y'know, down at the Jesus Centre." My red cross was unavoidably conspicuous. "Mmm," he replied. "I met Nayth and Chris last year. An' I know Viv. They came round to our place one night. An' Viv keeps inviting me round for tea." Wow, I thought, how did this happen?
We chatted on and he buzzed away, still somewhat hesitantly. Alex came over and gave him some tips on grading. I nodded at my beard. "You can have a go at that, if it's part of your practise." We agreed on a regime, and out came a new smaller electric trimmer. Then we settled that my ears needed attacking. Alex did one; Christian the other. "Sorry," she broke in. "This is all taking an awful long time. Can I offer you a drink or something?" I was gratified, but declined. She leaned forward. "Now, what are we going to do about the eyebrows?" Since everything else had been pruned like roses in February, I had to concede. "I love doing eyebrows!" she glowed, like a gourmand who's saved the best til last, and is about to indulge. I smiled, and suspected that poor Christian wasn't going to get a look-in on this. I looked in the mirror. Yes, this was at least as svelte as Phil.
Four weeks before the Multiply India trip I went down again. Christian was nowhere to be seen. Another trainee, who was at the end of her apprenticeship, produced a confident and proficient job in half the time. "About how long would you expect a cut like this to last?" I ventured. "Oh, come back in another couple of months." I put a reminder in my phone diary.
The third visit, Christian was my man again. We chatted some more about the guys he'd met, and I invited him to Praise Day, where they'd be sure to be there. He was grateful that Viv kept in touch. The shop's hours are set to catch the customers' convenience, so he's not likely to get a lot of free evenings. Then he mentioned that he was due to be off to India for a holiday. (He also said he wished he could grow a decent beard.) I told Alex he'd noticeably grown in confidence. This time I remembered to give him a tip, too. Nice one.
He had me hooked. Through my community years, I've engaged with haircutting from two directions. First, where I could get done, traditionally free, and by someone who had half an idea. And then learning to give them, both with scissors and an electric trimmer, as a small contribution to my brethren's welfare. (Nape hair is the great amateurish give-away; I have a thing about it.) But when I moved to Leeds, I gave this up as one job too many in a busy life, and because David (living with us) was pretty good. He was grateful to inherit my kit. And I'd also conceded that popping down from the Jesus Centre to the walk-in emporium at the bottom of the Moor for a pensioners afternoon £3 concessionary was just a no-brainer. Free, at a professional barbers, sounded too good not to explore.
Now this was May, when winter hadn't really packed up and gone, and the forecast was grim (you remember the miserable Whitsun Bank Holiday?). But I was due for two weeks in India in September, and a bit of forward thinking could have me ready with a buzz cut for the guaranteed high temperatures, whatever the English summer may bring in-between. I rang Alex, on the number advertised in the shop window: "A number 4?" "Yes; sure. Come down after 1.30pm." I don't understand why I was surprised that Alex was a lady.
I was ushered to a seat at the far end and introduced to Christian. "Number 4 all over?" Alex enquired. "It'll seem short." True, I had grown quite a thatch since my last haircut. It had been particularly stylish, swept up from one side with a blower. It hadn't stayed looking tidy for much more than a couple of weeks. Christian was nervous. Maybe me pulling out my hearing aids hadn't helped. "Did I drag you away from anything important?" he politely enquired. "Nah, I do some charity work, y'know, down at the Jesus Centre." My red cross was unavoidably conspicuous. "Mmm," he replied. "I met Nayth and Chris last year. An' I know Viv. They came round to our place one night. An' Viv keeps inviting me round for tea." Wow, I thought, how did this happen?
We chatted on and he buzzed away, still somewhat hesitantly. Alex came over and gave him some tips on grading. I nodded at my beard. "You can have a go at that, if it's part of your practise." We agreed on a regime, and out came a new smaller electric trimmer. Then we settled that my ears needed attacking. Alex did one; Christian the other. "Sorry," she broke in. "This is all taking an awful long time. Can I offer you a drink or something?" I was gratified, but declined. She leaned forward. "Now, what are we going to do about the eyebrows?" Since everything else had been pruned like roses in February, I had to concede. "I love doing eyebrows!" she glowed, like a gourmand who's saved the best til last, and is about to indulge. I smiled, and suspected that poor Christian wasn't going to get a look-in on this. I looked in the mirror. Yes, this was at least as svelte as Phil.
Four weeks before the Multiply India trip I went down again. Christian was nowhere to be seen. Another trainee, who was at the end of her apprenticeship, produced a confident and proficient job in half the time. "About how long would you expect a cut like this to last?" I ventured. "Oh, come back in another couple of months." I put a reminder in my phone diary.
The third visit, Christian was my man again. We chatted some more about the guys he'd met, and I invited him to Praise Day, where they'd be sure to be there. He was grateful that Viv kept in touch. The shop's hours are set to catch the customers' convenience, so he's not likely to get a lot of free evenings. Then he mentioned that he was due to be off to India for a holiday. (He also said he wished he could grow a decent beard.) I told Alex he'd noticeably grown in confidence. This time I remembered to give him a tip, too. Nice one.
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