Suits You Sir

Wednesday was full of fail. I got up sluggishly late.

I wandered around in the cold until my hands and feet went numb. I went back to bed for a while. I got back up, I poked at things listlessly for a while, then I went back to bed again.

Tomorrow can only be brighter.

I passed this Barber shop on my travels. Since shooting at York Barbers, I have developed bit of a general interest in old fashioned Barber Shops. I have also developed a parallel animosity towards neo-barber shops, where hipster douche bags fleece you £35 for a trim and a face massage (get your hands off my puss, I only came in for a haircut). There's one in the West End who particularly irriate me. Their name especially. Ruffians? Preening Dandies more like...