Perms and Trims

When we walk into town

we go past Condells

the Ladies’

Hairdressers.

There must be

things

that go on in there

because they put

net curtains

in the window

and there are pictures

of ladies heads

with hair

like this

or like that

and Dads aren’t allowed

in

or boys,

only Mums

and girls.

The Mums come out

smelling of hairspray

and handbags

and the hair

always looks

stiff and important.

I can go in the barber’s

with Dad

but it’s boring.

There are newspapers

on the seats

but no comics

and a there’s a long wait,

so we never go on Saturdays.

If I have my haircut

Mr Trippet

puts a plank across the arms of the chair

and I have to

sit on that

because he’s too tall

to reach me otherwise.

He wraps a big sheet

round me

and buzzes my head with

his clippers.

“Shall we call you Shaun?”

says Mr Trippet.

He tells me

would I like spray?

Yes, please.

(Even though Mum makes me wash my hair straight away after.)

I cover my eyes

and he sprays.

Then he brushes his soft brush

all the way round the back of my neck

and untucks the cloth

he had tucked into my collar

and he gives me a tissue

to rub the itches with

while Dad pays.

“Something for the weekend, sir?”

says Mr Trippet

“Not this weekend, Jack,”

says Dad,

every time.

Then they laugh.

But

at Condells

the ladies don’t have haircuts

they have

trims

and perms

and blowjobs.