Sunday, March 27, 2005

Something For The Weekend Sir?

It’s a four-day weekend in the UK; the Easter Bank Holiday weekend although I always thought that Easter was supposed to be in April? By the way, why is the day on which Jesus was crucified called Good Friday? Can’t blame that one on Mel Gibson.

Like most Bank Holiday weekends, the British get in their cars to clog up the roadworks-ridden motorways and gaze at the constant drizzle through their windscreens. Or they clog up garden centres and DIY shops buying disposable barbeques they’ll never use. Or they get over excited about the clocks going forward surmising that they’ll somehow lose an hour’s sleep. How can you “lose” an hour’s sleep? Sleep the same and get up later - it’s Sunday. As for my weekend, I ate a lot of chocolate and got me a haircut. Not the “proper” haircut as instructed by my mother but something considerably shorter than it was before.

I used to absolutely detest getting my hair cut. I’d rather have chewed a roll of tin foil at the dentists, naked, than get dragged along to the salon/barbers. These days I realise that all my past fears originated from the fact that I (and most men I think) never knew what to ask for once we slipped our limbs into the straitjacket overall and were clamped to the swivel seat.

Hairdresser: “So what are we after today then?”

Neil: “Um, eh, just a bit of the top really… and perhaps the sides… but leave the back really, really long cause I still want to look cool.”

We just didn’t have the vocabulary or the articulation to describe the end result we wanted. Hairdressing terminology such as “layering” or “extra body” were fanciful, exotic phrases from the out of date magazines lying around the salon/barbers and might as well have been written in ancient Greek for all the sense they made. Having said that, even I was smart enough to know that the phrase “perm” would result in something evil and was never to be uttered out loud.

Nowadays as the vanity levels diminish at an almost equal rate as the hairline, the end result is much less of an issue than it used to be. I’ve been going to the same, talented hairdresser for over ten years and only occasionally now does she bother to ask me what I’m looking for. She knows that I know that she knows best so I just let her get on with it on the understanding that she won’t ask me if I’m going out tonight or enquire where I’m going on my holidays. So Marjory, thanks very much once again. You didn’t leave the back really, really long like I secretly wanted and I can see now that you were right… as usual. And no, I didn't need anything for the weekend, alas.

As if all the chocolate-eating and hairdressing adventures weren’t enough for one weekend, I also now know all the names of the My Little Ponies thanks to a visit from my four-year old pal Megan. At first glance, they all seem to look very similar with their multi-coloured, 80’s-style manes but at closer inspection, the tattoos on their rear ends make each one distinguishable. Now was Rainbow Dash the one with the sapphire piercing?.. or was that Sparklearse? Shit, need to go and do some additional homework before she comes to visit again.


At 28/3/05 6:01 am, Blogger ropedncr said...

i'm pretty sure that was sparklearse.

At 29/3/05 11:57 am, Blogger McSporran said...

So Neil,
no mention of the titanic golf match on Sunday morning then?
C'mon, I deserve some credit for finally giving you a game for a change!!!!

At 31/3/05 8:26 am, Blogger DC said...


Sorry for not commenting on this sooner,but I'm just getting over losing an hour's sleep, and a cold caught whilst hunched over my disposable BBQ in the rain.



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