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hair don't

This morning I cut Patsington's hair.

To my immense surprise, it actually looks okay. Patsington's flowing black curls had been getting out of control of late, as had his ferociously curly beard, and he gleefully ignored my pleas for a trim. But today - perhaps because it's his 30th birthday and he's throwing caution to the wind in his old age - he decided he wanted to be shorn, and so I obliged. Even though I've never actually cut anyone's hair before. And it was actually quite easy. I basically just copied what I'd seen hairdressers do for years, combing it out in layers and snipping away at angles, and lo, it worked! Perhaps my destiny is to be a self-trained hairdresser. I shall have to start wearing all black and getting my hair arranged in an outlandishly impractical style. Although I think if I was faced with someone with straight hair who cared horribly what their hair looked like, I would a lot less blase about the whole business.

Also, sweeping up lots of hair (which Patsington somehow managed to shake all over the house)? Is not fun. Perhaps I shall stick to my day job after all.


Mar. 16th, 2005 03:52 pm (UTC)
Happy birthday Patsington!

Mark cuts his own hair with clippers, and the little bits of hair around the house upset me. He did do quite a good job when he cut my hair in December, though, so he probably deserves some credit.
Mar. 16th, 2005 07:19 pm (UTC)
Heavens, you are braver than I - I don't think I'd trust a non-professional with my wild mane!

And, Patsington seems to be having a happy birthday so far - he is playing a gig tonight, which I'm going to in a few minutes...


fat pony like thunder
The Monkey Princess

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