Remember yesterday? It was supposed to be an easy day. Pre-scheduled blog posting, haircut and relaxed afternoon messing with paint.
The scheduled blog went by the wayside but the haircut still held out promise. I love hairdressers, and I love haircuts. If I have a vanity, it’s a good haircut. It has to be good because in-between visits to hairdressers I do nothing whatsoever to my hair except wash it. So I am sadly not a great advert for good haircuts, but still. I like to think the underlying structure wins through.
So I breezed into the salon yesterday with my customary optimistic anticipation. They greeted me as usual but then asked if Lee was doing my hair? I was puzzled. Who was Lee? Certainly not my hairdresser of the last 18 years. I politely but firmly corrected them, and they asked me to take a seat.
I was amused by this. I had been asked to take a seat but they had forgotten the robe ceremony. The one where you stand like a penguin whilst they wrap and tie you up. I wondered how long it would take for them to realise.
After a few minutes, another lady appeared.
“Would you like to follow me downstairs?” she gaily enquired. I got up and followed her thinking I had never before descended to the stylish depths unrobed, and would I get to the basins, and what if they failed to notice and I got my clothes wet?
Me, me, me. Have you noticed it was all about me at this point? She showed me to a chair, and I began to wonder where my stylist was. Thinking about it, it was an all time first for him not to have met me and led me to the chair.
By now the lady had seated herself inches away from me and suddenly looked terribly serious.
“I’m really sorry to tell you, but…” and I gaped in horror. What on earth was she going to tell me?
“He’s gone.” Gone? What sort of gone? Worst case scenario?
“We’re so sorry no one contacted you, but his clients were all, er, cleared from the database when he went.”
I must have looked gobsmacked, but it was actually relief flooding through me that he hadn’t dropped dead.
“I’m so sorry,” she continued. “I know you were with him for a long time.”
“18 years”, I muttered. “There’s been no one else.”
She smiled empathetically. “We can offer you a wash and blow dry if it helps?”
“No thanks,” I replied. “It’s ok. I can do that myself.”
With no robe to wriggle out of, I wandered back outside onto the street where life continued as usual for the rest of the world. The sun beckoned, a note of optimism.
It’s been a good run.