Another haircut.

I went to get my hair cut the other day. A rich seam of blogging, if you're me. For some masochistic reason I went to the place down the road that has no pride. Actually I know why I went - I'm too lazy to go somewhere acceptable and too cheap to go somewhere good. I put up with shit because it's at the end of my road. I can see for an instant why people put up with dead-end relationships - although my hair issues have nothing to do with a lack of self-confidence and my not having taken education seriously enough to overcome me a lack of direction. It's mainly just the laziness and the cheapness.

There were two women in there doing nothing this time, as opposed to the usual one. The smell I recognised - of vegetable oil and failure. I could spot the one who brings chips back at lunchtime from two doors down. The haircut - perfunctory. Kicked off with the standard 'not working today?' designed to masquerade as a feeble attempt at small talk, but designed to see whether you get the DSS rate. At this point I always throw in something about lectures and a hardluck story about having an essay due in just to ram home the message that I expect £1.50 off the ticket price at the end of the scalping.

We continue in pained silence, I turn down gel and then I go home, to trim the bits they've missed with a pair of kitchen scissors. And life goes on.