Sit down...

Yesterday I was privy to something which up till now has been a mystery.  You'll remember that the husband had taken his hair into his own hands, with devastating effects around the summit.  Finally taking my advice, he decided that while I was in the dentist (yet again) having a crown repaired (yet again) he would pop over the road to the Turkish barber and have the full works.  This entailed a hair cut (thank goodness), a shave and the removal of tufts of hair from various orifices (before you start thinking that the Turkish barber did 'extras', all these tufts were above the shoulders).  There aren't many times I'm glad I'm not a bloke, but watching the husband having his ears set alight with lighter fluid, I thanked my parents for making me a she and not a he.

Anyway, my dentist works very quickly, so I toddled across the road to the barber and plonked myself down in the waiting area.  The husband was half way through, and was being wet shaved.  As he glanced across to me, I came very close to shrieking at him to sit still, but once I noticed that the barber's blade-free hand had the husband's head in the Turkish equivalent of a Bid Daddy Half-Nelson, I was less worried.

Having been scalped, and set fire to around the ears, the husband's head and face was wrapped in a hot towel and he was left to gently steam.  I can't even begin to tell you how hard it was not to laugh at what happened next.  Ali Barber whipped the towel off with a flourish, and the husband went to get up.  

'Oh no sir, I'm not finished'.  

Sitting back down in the chair, the barber then slapped a fistful of soap onto the husband's head and started massaging it into the husband's face and scalp.  I say massage, but pummell might be a better word.  Do you remember Rowan Atkinson in Love Actually, taking great pride in the wrapping of Alan Rickman's illicit gift?  Well this was the same.  The husband then had his head stuck under the tap, and he was completely scrubbed from the neck upwards.  Then another towel was wrapped around him and he sat in blinded splendour for another two minutes.

'You want a shave, lady?'  I assumed that this was barber humour and laughed along with him, hoping that he hadn't spotted the latest crop of chin hairs awaiting the epilator.  Unveiling the husband, he then rubbed some kind of moisturiser all over the shiny skin, finally inviting the husband to leave the chair.  

So he's looking far more presentable than he did at the beginning of the week, and the man bun is just a distant memory.

By the way, son number two came home yesterday for a couple of days, and greeting me at the door, he said those three words which I haven't heard for almost four weeks..

'What's for dinner?'

Welcome home, my love...