Snip! Snip!

I recently had my monthly shearing at the barber’s. My local barber is Turkish, and whilst he doesn’t run an official ‘Turkish barber shop’, he still does the little extras that you might expect, including the flaming taper in the ears for those hard-to-get follicles (although my barber uses his cigarette lighter in place of the taper – this is south London).

I find getting a haircut one of the most relaxing ways to spend a half hour and have been known to nod off whilst in the chair on occasion. Aside from the snip-snip of the scissors and the buzz of the clippers it’s usually very quiet: just old men with the afternoon newspapers and the occasional sulky kiddies bribed into compliance with the promise of a Chupa Chups lollipop.

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