I received a photo from my Uncle B, of myself holding my nephew, Elliott. The patent charm of the moment and the little chap himself aside, the overpowering motif of the image was just how fabulously ridiculous the haircut I have been sporting was.
This is what happens when you and friends have a pair of clippers and an attitude that roughly translates like so: 'Hairdressing? I can do as good a job I'm sure, after all I have a degree in Theology'. One ill-advised idea, formulated after watching too much Boardwalk Empire, and poor application later. Et voila. In a positive spin, as it was known to be awkward before it was also discovered as absurd, I really got into wearing hats, which is fun.
Oh and also, of course, in years to come I will be claiming that 'everyone had haircuts like that', 'it was a different time' etc, as the family gathers round the photographs to laugh at our past follies. Oh well, star of the show and all that.
Anyway, a swift trip to the barbers later and I now have recaptured my masculinity. Do please everyone tell me in future, for Christ's sake. Regards, Gavin.
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