Bzzzzt

My Dear Princess & Dear Fellows,

"It is time to shave your head."

So says Caro, and she has a point. It has been a while, and consequently I am starting to develop adorable little curls at the back of my neck. You have to trust me on this, I am just precious with my little curls.

At the back, that is. It is a different story up top. On the top, it is a desert, a wasteland. The winds of time are whistling through the arid landscape that was once a full head of hair.

Not that I mind. Not really. I have a wife. The search for a mate is over. She married me before the hair effed off and now she is stuck with me.
 
But we both find that the all-over "Telly Savalas" is the best look for me these days. That way it looks like I am not trying to fool anyone. Hair and I have given up on each other. So says my current look.

Caro is very helpful in that she is happy to take on clipper-duty*. So I positioned myself on a kitchen stool and she approached me with the clippers.

"I'm not sure where the charger is..." she said absent-mindedly.

"Well do you want to wait until we've found..." I asked. I was about to add the word "it", but it was too late. She was in there, pushing the clippers through the middle of my hair.

BZZZZZZZ-beeeoooooorp-cough-splutter-hack

The clippers died. And there was me, with a track - a CREVASSE - through the middle of my hair. A reverse-Mohican, or "Nacihom", if you will.

I may have said something that rhymes with "duck's hake".

"No need to panic," said Caro, panicking. "I think we'll be okay." She flicked the switch on and off.

beeeoooorrrr-BZZZZZZZ said the clippers.

"Yay!" said Caro.

She pushed them through my hair again. 

BZZooorrrrrrrrrrrp the clippers said, sadly.

"It's all right, it's all right," added Caro hastily. "I just need to do it in short little bursts." She demonstrated her theory.

BZZZZ-rrrrrp!

BZZzzzz-opppp!

Bztphphhhh!

- went the clippers

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" I said.

Because by now, Caro wasn't so much trimming my hair as RIPPING IT OUT OF MY SCALP ONE FOLLICLE AT A TIME. To adopt a gardening allegory, it was like she had ditched the Flymo and was pushing a hand-mower across my hair-lawn.

"Oh sorry," said Caro, "I didn't realise it hurt."

"Well it (very bad word) DOES!" I said, swearily.

BZZZtttoooooop! 

The clippers died. Finally.

"Look, I could just call in sick tomorrow," I told Caro. "I could tell them I've got mange," I added sourly.

"No, it's all right, I can finish with scissors," said Caro, going to get the kitchen scissors that I use for chicken.

So that was what we did. Given the circumstances, I have to say, Caro did an admirable job. I was very impressed. But even more so, when she produced the charger.

As you can see, the clippers are now charging on the kitchen top. Let us hope they STAY charged the next time I turn curly.

S.

* The first woman to shave my head with clippers was actually J-Bar, Caro's mum with her filthy sense of humour. I remember she shaved my head shortly after we arrived in New Zealand for our visit back in 2001. 

After she was finished she proudly announced to Caro, "Look out love! You'll have to watch out for thigh-burn now!"

I could see Caro putting the pieces together in her head. It took her a minute, then - 

"MUM!!" said Caro, horrified.

I was too shocked to say anything. And anyway, J-Bar was already on her way, still chuckling to herself that her job of embarrassing her daughter was done.