The man whose head expanded

Captains Blog 1319 - 1319 • Published 16 Apr 2009 10:00 0 Comments

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I think I need a haircut. It hit me when yesterday when the 1980s phoned and asked for their hairstyle back.

To say that it is bouffant at the moment is to say that Everest is a bit of a climb. My hair doesn"t just grow, it expands and I"m now thinking about extending the broom cupboard I call an office to accommodate it.

I get a trim fairly regularly - it"s the only way I can get a beautiful woman to run her fingers through my hair - but my next appointment is not for another two weeks (that"s how popular Karin, my hairdresser, is. She also needs the time to limber up. Alongside her arsenal of cutting tools when she tackles my mullet is a chair and a whip).

The problem is, my hair grows like grass. This is not a cliche - last week I woke to find a sheep nibbling at my napper.

And when I shower there is so much of it on the bottom of the bath that you"d think that someone had knocked the stuffing out of King Kong. My drains don"t get cleaned, they"re mowed.

(As I write this particular blog there"s a guy behind me giving a little drum roll at the end of these lines.)

I remember back in the early 70s we used to let our barnet hang loose, man. Extensive follicle growth was the style back then and anyone with a short cut was either in the army or a Mormon.

Going further back, to the early sixties, there is a photograph of me when I was but a lad boasting a wave so large you could surf on it. It"s not very different now. In fact, I can hear the Beach Boys tuning up right now.

Although I can"t remember, my hair must"ve been stiff with Brylcream. This was all we had back then for styling purposes and it left your hair looking like you needed the oil changed every week.

Some people used to put perfumed toilet water on their hair. Poorer families stuck their head down the cludgie and let the blue flush do the trick.

Now we have a variety of product to wield. Mousse, gel, wax and clay are all squirted, oozed, plastered and smeared onto our scalps to make our hair something of a feature.

Back in the "70s we"d"ve had an open and frank exchange of views with anyone caught using that stuff. Even Brylcream was frowned on when we went natural, baby.

Of course, I"m older now. Manly though I am - and you should see me spit and scratch myself - I too have been known to use "product". Although, unlike one of the young reporters in the Chronicle, I don"t carry an emergency supply in my desk drawer. At least it wasn"t a large glass tub of Sea Kelp Souffle, which lay on someone"s desk for months. Mentioning no names, of course.

Anyway, I can"t wait to get my hair cut. At least when I go out in a high wind I won"t run the risk of lacerating my face when it whips back and forth.

That"s when it"s not clamped into place with enough gel to grease up a Channel swimmer, of course. I slapped enough on the other day to keep it in place it became so crispy that when I ran my fingers through it people thought I was eating a bowl of cornflakes.

There"s that drummer again....

This blog appeared in Irvine Times 01 Jan 70

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Feb 26, 10:48
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