Sharp solution to my early mid-life crisis

I’M approaching my 38th birthday (cash gifts gratefully received) and while it’s a touch premature for a mid-life crisis, I have found myself contemplating my lot, and it is a lot. After 10 years here, London feels like a whole lot and maybe that’s why deep down in my waters something is telling me I should pack it all in and move home.

But I’m fearful. What about my job, which I love. What if Cork feels too small after the Big Smoke? It’s not a case of FOMO, I’ve well and truly ‘done’ London and it’s not like I’m going to get to 40 and think ‘d’ya know what, I should have partied more’. At the moment these are shapeless faraway thoughts but my impending birthday and the fact that I need to find somewhere to live before January are weighing on me.

I can’t afford to buy a Porsche but I can certainly indulge in a few less expensive mid-life crisis treats — a dramatic haircut and piercing. I had my ears pierced the first time when I was seven, just before my Holy Communion (I looked like a demonic Polly Pocket) but it didn’t go well. The fright and sting from the first ear put me off and I refused to have the other one done until my mother talked me round. My second piercing did not take place under the supervision of, or with the permission of my parents. I was 16, Oasis ruled the charts and belly button piercings were in.

This time round, I decided on something a bit more subtle and way less likely to go sceptic — a new piercing in my left ear. Oh, how times have changed, no more dingy tattoo shops, but a small boutique in Covent Garden where a young woman has me look at the wall while she pierces my ear with a needle, not the dreaded gun. Now what to do with my hair?