We meet at regular intervals throughout the year, because she’s so good with her hands, and listens to all my woes whilst running her fingers through my hair.
What’s more, Mrs N doesn’t mind a bit and actually makes me go to see her, as she doesn’t want to do it anymore, like she used to until a few years ago.
There is a down side however, as it costs me 6 quid every time I visit, and a 50p tip if she’s exceptionally good. But I suppose that’s not bad for a decent haircut in this day and age.
One of the main reasons I go to this particular hairdresser is that she knows I have an allotment, and as she grows things in her greenhouse, it gives us something to talk about. The trouble is, she thinks I’m an expert and it always turns out like a session of Gardener’s Question Time.
“ My tomatoes wouldn’t go red this year,” she said the other day, “what do you think I did wrong ?”
I haven’t a clue, I thought, but I did tell her of one young woman I’d heard off, who tried watering her tomatoes in the nude, to make them blush.
“And did it work ?” she giggled.
“No it didn’t, but her cucumbers grew by four inches”, I replied.
Now here’s a warning, don’t tell your barber any jokes whilst they’ve got the tools of their trade in their hands, because she was now laughing so much that the scissors were menacingly going all over the place.
That, and the fact that she’s probably the fastest hair cutter in the west, had me in serious fear of leaving the place looking like Van Gogh !
With it being Christmas, she offered me a free bottle of Budweiser as a thankyou for my patronage throughout the year, but I don’t really like these new fangled beers. So not wanting to upset her I accepted it, in the true Yorkshire spirit of never to refuse anything but blows.
It came in quite handy as it happens, because being straight from the fridge the bottle was cold enough to use for cauterising the blood coming from my earlobe.
Merry Christmas everyone.
Tom
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