Haircut Sir

Went to Rhazi's, on Loampit Lane for a haircut.  I ended up with a style suitable for a fading, balding bolywood actor, ...  something akin to a combover.  I had been there before so knew what to expect.  He obviously does some fairly serious ethnic styles, the guy before me had something slarted on his head that looked as if it were fresh from the Gulf oil spill, subtle shades of kack and dung.  For the non-cognoscenti there's the choice of medium or short.  I went for the medium, leaving a small opportunity for correction should the worst happen.

For some reason he seemed to be in a rush this time, and his 100 mile an hour approach at the start accelerated as new clients entered the shop.  By the end his hands were a blur, till suddenly he was behind me stock still with the mirror with what appeared to be a picture of the back of somebody elses head on it.  Very neat at the back, and a cross between Caligula and Ken Dodd at the front.  As I got up to pay I could see the dilemma on the faces of some of the waiting clients - "My God what did he ask for -- is it too late to get up and leave".  I guess it's the sign of a dodgy barber if you see a customer emerge and immediately start to reconfigure his hair with his hands and spit.

Came back and the house was upside down and flooring half laid in the front room.  No chance of all the work being completed by Friday now, but Saturday is DDay so we'll have to manage the rest by proxy.

Nowhere to sit and chill so I went for a run .. and pulled my calf muscle.  Hope I can drive by Saturday.

Talking of 100 mile an hour.  At the start of a Little Gaddesden League match back in the day, we started playing in what our midflield creative player (Peter Hepburn) thought an inappropriate style.  "Lads - Lads this is all 100 mile an hour, slow it down" he shouted.  Our injured centre half retorted from the dug out "Aye - and that's 98 mile an hour too fast for you Hepburn".