I have mentioned in the past, one of the reasons I wear my hair long is to irritate my more successful colleagues. What they may gain in fame acclaim and riches, they lose in tonsorial ability. I have hair. Lots of it. It is not a rinse: no artificial colourings have been applied to this bonce. If you tug it, it won't come off!
So off to a branch of a well-known hairdressing chain in London's fashionable West End. It is the one near the betting shop.
It is also staffed by rather young women so I feel like a dirty old man when I am in a vibrating chair having my mane washed followed by a head massage. I expect people to shout "sex tourist" at me as I scuttle out.
"What can we do for you today?" asks the 17 year-old stylist before handing me to her 16 year-old assistant.
"haircut, please" beams the raddled old bloke in the chair as he surveys the pile of teen-and-twenty style magazines.
"Do you want a drink of 'HIC' something?"
"If I take a HIC bit off the sides it'll be more bigger"
"Just trim it, tidy it and stop it becoming a mullet, please"
"No HIC worries. Sorry I've got HIC hiccups for some reason."
"As long as you don't cut my ear accidentally" I beam.
"Do you use any products?"
"You should try this. Massage it in to wet hair. Then your hair will be less frizzier. It smells nice too. Smell it?"
"Mmm yes it does. What is the smell?"
"I don't know. Smells like summer to HIC me".
After a few more snips I was placed under a gentle heat to dry.
"There. I'll show you the back"
"Er, jolly good."
It did look good too!
"It is better this length and with the stuff on it, it is more bouncier".
With that, and armed with the lotion, I was back on the street. One more weddingy thing crossed off the list.
Hope the Dark Lady likes my new "More bigger. Less frizzier. More bouncier" look!