Hair-raising visit to the demon barber

TO CELEBRATE our graduation from primary to secondary school, it was the custom to have a school dance. To mark the occasion, I got a new suit with long trousers and Dad insisted on taking me to his barber ‘to get the lad a professional job’. I felt grown-up and excited as, seated on a big cushion, the chair was spun round until the top of my little head appeared in the mirror. Dad was having his usual short back and sides from the head barber while a pimply apprentice took on the challenge of my double crown. The front went well, but then panic seemed to grip the youth when he came to the back, and snipping turned to hacking. When I looked in the mirror I had a Billy Fury wave at the front and a crop of Henry the Hedgehog spikes at the crown. The head barber came across with a hand mirror and did a double take. He promptly offered my father a free bottle of styling solution ‘for the boy when it grows back in’. Back home, Mum couldn’t disguise her shock and Dad got both barrels from her. I was persuaded to go to the dance, but spent the evening standing rigidly to attention with the back of my head glued to the wall. These days, I would, of course, have counselling and my personal lawyer would sue the barber for damages.

Ian S. Clark, Freuchie, Fife.