Older

They say that age is relative…that is without a doubt true. You see people who are 100 running marathons and some at 20 too old in the head to get out of bed.

This morning I went for my regular head sharpening, living opposite the barber shop has several advantages. Not least that I can wait until there is no queue and it is the particular person that I want to perform the job. Ten minutes of observation is all that it takes to get the order of service, then it is a matter of waiting.

I have had my current hair style since turning 40 and am on the look out for a change. Men’s styles are pretty dull in comparison to the choice offered to women. That coupled with the fact that during my working week I need a style that involves no noise and little effort as I am up early and have things timed precisely.

When I was at school I worked in a barber shop sweeping hair and washing heads, at that time I had a military flat top which I dearly loved. It required two weekly trimming and 20 minutes of blow drying daily to get it just right. Thankfully hair cuts were a perk and the spray gel was there for the taking, you could have landed a chopper on that hair it was so hard.

I am very grateful to have reached this age and still have hair options, it is slowly beginning to creep backwards but not at the pace I was expecting. I was always being told that I took after my maternal grandfather who was bald by 30. Thankfully not!

I am always being ribbed at work for my hair, like Shania said, “heaven forbid it should fall out of place.” When it does fall they all have a go at that too. I work on the principle that a gentleman should take a pride in his appearance.

And besides…all those baldies are just jealous.

Anyway, I just spent too many minutes trying pick a bit of white thread from my hair, I couldn’t work out how it had gotten there in the first place and it took me way too long to realise that it was the light shining on a white hair….not grey, white!

It has only a couple of dozen compadres around the sides so the odds are still OK for my money.

My daughter and wife are under strict instructions that should I ever drift towards that insipid beige or greenish hue that many older folks favour I am to be taken aside for a stern talking to.

Similarly if and when my hair reaches the point where it starts to have a desperation factor then a clipper will be applied and we will go short all over.

I am in no hurry to embrace either of these things as I like this stage where I am comfortable within my skin and all comments are received in the best possible light.

None of this has arrived without effort, those youthful insecurities were hard to fight off and the support of a secure woman has been invaluable.