As arguably a relatively normal if southpaw male, a haircut is not in the grand scheme of things and unlike my handedness, something I can generally get excited about. However that changed recently. Having had the same barber, amazingly for over forty years, I was chagrined to learn that she would be retiring. The ramifications of this went beyond the potential impact or short term lack thereof upon my long since grey remaining locks. It interfered also with my habit of going downtown, parking miles away from her salon and thus getting a free so to speak (except for the parking) long walk out of it for the betterment of what’s left of my constitution. Having since tried and failed to find an acceptable replacement hairdresser downtown, I decided to look locally to my residence and to hell with the walk.

In less than a nanosecond, Google found three barber shops within a less than ten minute walk. I chose one at random, phoned for an appointment and showed up on the day barely five minutes from leaving home. The young barber, Alfredo (not his real name but it would suit him) greeted me like a prodigal son. OK grandfather. He went to work and twenty five or so minutes later I felt and counting myself as an optimist imagined, I looked like a new man. It turned out, my newfound youthful and ‘with it’ barber had figured that I had been wearing the wrong hairstyle for said forty years. He also recommended ‘product’ on my hair and proceeded to ladle it on with more than your average gusto. Nice chap.

A couple of days after the haircut I was in my local library buying a coffee. The woman serving, recognising me as a regular, took one look at me and asked “have you just had a haircut?”. I confirmed that indeed I had prompting her to exclaim “it makes you look ten years younger”!

To no surprise, I stuck with ‘Alfredo’ for my next haircut telling him of the library incident. I asked him would it be possible this time to take another ten years off? With, it must be said, more than a little hesitation, he said he would give it his best shot. On leaving I literally had not gone ten feet when an individual on the patio of an adjacent restaurant yelled out ‘Wow. What a great haircut”. (I am not making this up!). Thinking quickly my retort was to point back at the barber shop and say “did he pay you to say that?” That got a laugh out of him and I continued on my five minute walk home. Just before I arrived a car pulled up along side of me. Opening the window was one of my neighbours and he shouted “Wow. What a great haircut!” I am not making this up either. Neither party it must be said mentioned anything about my looking younger. C’est la vie.

I have since been for my third haircut from ‘Alfredo’. Of course I told him of the two separate compliments on haircut number two to his further credit and my delight. It has now been a week since haircut number three and guess what? No compliments so far. I’ll give it another week before I go looking for a good therapist.