I’ve not seen my neighbour for weeks, that’s not unusual as he’s quiet and reserved at the best of times. Then this morning he’s there stepping out early to take the dog for a walk, and he’s grown a beard.

Another quiet neighbour has also disappeared, his normally manicured grass cut to within a centimetre of its life is now growing like the other neighbour’s beard. The company that descend on his place every week are nowhere to be seen and the regular sound of mowing and blowing, even if there’s nothing to blow, have evaporated into the new normal silence of the area that makes the birds seem positively riotous.

So there’s a run on hair clippers, I’m likely to start to look more and more like Wurtzel Gummidge as the weeks progress. I toyed with the idea of buying some electric clippers but the memory of last time I let my other half free with them still haunts me. My daughter used to do it for me back then and made a great job. After she left home I asked my wife if she would do it. She was somewhat nervous and approached me with the buzzing clippers rather like a pilot on his first landing at an island airport with a strong crosswind. The clippers bounced on the runway and there was some turbulence in the room. We landed but it felt like she’d landed on my head without the landing gear. Her promise to do a little better next time was met with a “ There’s not going to be a next time thanks”. One does not want to land at an airport in a crosswind with the pilot announcing that he’s going to “Give it a go!”

So project hair ended there, and I searched for a decent barber. Found one, after some research, but it may be some time before I land there again.

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