Went to have my hair cut today as the impression of an elderly sheep dog was getting too realistic. Usually i just chop lumps off so I can see where I am going.
This village has, as I believe I have said before, [but I like the symmetry] 3 churches [of England, Methodist and a closed Baptist] 3 shops, [village stores, newspaper and cake shop and Chinese take away] and 3 pubs.
One profits from the river side location by turning out smartish, reassuringly expensive food via young persons probably on minimum wage, another, recently re-opened, promising local beers and bar food, and one, sadly closed.
The latter is a loss as the chef was great, especially with a rack of lamb, but he moved on to better things, and as the food there after was tasteless - people stopped coming. Even the rackety peeps banned from the other two gave it up, one needs a crowd to racket amongst i suppose.
We do have a post office, hidden at the back of a house these days, she hides the sign as she doesn't want to get robbed, and on my way back from sending my newsletters re ERTF [if you ask you will probably get told, so be warned] I saw the hairdressers in the village car park was open, and it transpired had an appointment for after lunch.
Most old ladies in this village either trek on the bus to town, or have the lady who comes round their houses and gives them a ghastly dry cut, so it is a miracle this emporium in an old missen hut survives.
My cutter was a large lady whose very dyed blond helmet did not augur well. She and the apprentice however were giggling fit to bust when I arrived so i guess they thought me worthy of comment also.
They made an odd couple, the apprentice was a Goth, hairpin thin, all dyed in black, bare midriff clasped by a sparkly belt which constantly needed hitching up, as obviously she had no hips yet, if ever.
Madam Cutter was large, my vision of a solid medieval Suffolk peasant - I have just finished the excellent 2nd book of Adriana Norman set in the twelfth century, so i am still seeing the world thru that prism.
M Cutter was armed to trim, strutting a black leather holster, bristling with tools of her trade. Unfortunately it was hung tightly round her hips which meant it cut deeply into her stomach. swelling defiantly above and below.
I went in tough, not wanting to come out with a bubble cut, [I said that - but I don't think they had any idea what I was referring to] and laid down my rules.
Goth gave me a perfunctory hair wash, perhaps trying to avoid getting her nails wet.
MC agreed to give me two cuts, the short one on top and the long one for the back. I guess I came out looking a bit like Gilly Cooper.
We parted amiably, I left a tip for Goth. There are no street lights round here, I didn't want to bump into her resentment on a dark night .
