I needed to get my haircut. I do not like getting my hair cut. It freaks me out. All those scissors and combs look like torture devices to me. Ewww.
But, at last, I have found my kind of hairdresser. Here's how it goes. I went into the salon and said, 'Please can I have a haircut.' The man behind the desk said, 'Yes, would you like that done now?'. 'That would be good,' I said.
I sat down, and he said, 'What would you like?'
'I would like my hair to be shorter.' I responded. He laughed. 'Would you like it washed?' He asked.
'I just washed it,' I answered, 'but, you can if you like.'
'I'll damp it down for you,' he replied.
He cut my hair, and talked. His wife was doing a PhD in Theology. He was here to support her. He said she was 'the brains of the outfit'. I am not so sure, he seemed an intuitive kind of chap to me. He admired teachers - the usual polite banter, 'I don't know how you do it', etc, etc.
When he finished cutting my hair, he asked, 'how do you wear it?'
'All over my head, usually'. I answered. He scruffed it up a bit. 'How's that?'
'Great'. I said.
'That'll be £10', he said.
'Thanks,' I said.
If only all my haircuts were this simple. In fact, if only most exchanges I had in life were this simple. No nonsense. No fuss. Just doing the job that needs to be done. Simply marvellous. I am happy to have found my kind of hairdresser. :-)