Short back and snide.

In no more than five days I shall have moved on to a whole new phase of my life. One chapter will have ended and another just beginning, I am so excited it’s painful (and probably slightly embarrassing). Moving to university is stirring up all sorts of emotions within me, nostalgia for the days of innocence and freedom that are long gone, excitement for the days of self-defining and future shaping that lay ahead of me and an incredible amount of worry and anxiety. Not because I’m nervous about meeting new people or having no friends and stuff like that, my biggest worry is not being able to decide what it is I want to eat that day. With great power comes great responsibility. In this case the great power is the liberation from the “get what you’re given” mentality I’ve approached my daily meals with for the past eighteen years, the great responsibility however is to be able to decide what it is I actually should eat. I’m picturing myself sat in my room on Sunday thinking, “what is it that people eat?”. For now though, I don’t have to deal with that problem and my main concern is making sure everything’s sorted for me to leave. This means buying pots and pans, a kettle, new clothes and all the other stuff that goes with it. It’s strange the sense of incredible maturity you have knowing that you personally own a cheese grater and a tin opener. Anyway, one of my main preparations for university was to get myself a swanky new hair cut. A task that I chose to complete on Friday.

I was at home and really couldn’t be bothered going into town solely to get my hair cut so I took the plunge and decided to test out the local barber’s. I went in at about one and they said to come back at three, as I live like five minutes away this was fine and I walked home and patiently waited. I arrived at the barber’s promptly, five minutes early to be exact, to ensure for a speedy getaway. There are few things in this world that compare with the tedium of sitting waiting to get your hair cut, eavesdropping on the mundane small talk between the staff and the other customers as you sit, stoically, on a battered settee gazing aimlessly at the pile of magazines you don’t care for boasting headline stories about people you don’t care about. However, my plan was scuppered when the woman uttered those haunting words to me, “Iya love, we’ll just be a little while sorry”. So I took my place on the couch, as though this delay was completely fine and wasn’t inconveniencing me at all. Like an inmate taking his place on death-row and being told “Oh sorry love, there’s a bit of a wait, do you fancy a cuppa?” So there I was, homicidally silent, awaiting my turn for the chair. Eventually it came, I’d been in there a good 20/25 minutes by now and was desperate for the deed to be done so I could escape. I sat down and the woman put the backwards cape on me, like an over-zealous but completely useless assistant to Batman. Then she decided to just potter about for another five minutes whilst I was sat there all prepped and ready. She finally asked me what I wanted, to which I replied, “long and then short, like really long on the top – so barely touch the top – and then really short, like a wedge”. She looked shocked. I looked at her in the mirror with an expression that conveyed just how serious I was. She asked me how short I’d like the short part. Now normally, I’d go for maybe a one or a two but I was fed up of all the faffing and waiting, something in my brain snapped and in a moment of true madness I exclaimed purposefully “THE SHORTEST!” She duly pinned my hair up, turned on the blades and as I felt the callous metal of the blade buzz against my vulnerable skull I knew it was too late to turn back. She began to shave, it took a total of about five minutes. We were both shocked, it was written all over our faces. She trimmed some bits off my fringe. I passed her the crumpled fiver I’d been storing in my pocket, I put my jackets back on, flicked my hood up (it was raining) and set off home.

My parents were not impressed. It’s incredible just how worked up a person can get over a haircut; not even their own haircut, somebody else’s haircut. It’s taken a while for me to get used to, it’s a shock to be able to see my scalp again after so long. I was thinking this weekend though that my New Years Resolution was to make better first impressions. I’d been told, by a number of people, that I do not really make particularly favourable first impressions, on account of my sense of humour mainly. Apparently I have a tendency to come across as both cocky and arrogant and my sense of humour can be quite intimidating. At first I thought, what a bunch of squares, it’s not my fault God has gifted me with a phenomenal amount of intelligence as well as a razor-sharp wit. It was that exact thought that made me see that, perhaps, they had a point. So I committed myself to making better first impressions, to try to seem approachable and friendly instead of a complete idiot who is to be avoided at all costs. So, as I was saying, I was thinking about this resolution and it suddenly dawned on me that I have the first real opportunity to put this into practise in a matter of days. It was in the shower (always a prime pondering spot) and I was thinking about how I can make a great first impression on my new flat mates, course mates and just any other potential mates. I stepped out the shower, grabbed a towel, dried my face and looked up into the mirror. I then realised what I’d done. I’d given every new person I encounter a fantastically blatant reason to believe that I was either poverty-stricken or totally daft. People are going to see me and think either “how sad, this poor boy from the north can’t afford a complete haircut” or “what sort of moron shaves half of their hair off down to the scalp, leaving a mushroom of curly, brown locks resting on top like a limp squirrel?” First impressions ay, I suppose I’ll have to keep working on it.



Thanks for reading, if you like it please comment, follow, tweet or send it over to Facebook. I’m eager to hear what you think of my blog. Thanks again for taking the time to read this.

On Wednesday I will be sharing with you my thoughts on the new Scroobius Pip album “Distraction Pieces” please check it out!


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  • Dates, all three hundred and sixty five of them.

    September 2011
    M T W T F S S
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