Hair today, gone today
Owing to my pathetic fear of hairdressers, I have just hacked off chunks of my own hair. It is now possible to actually get a brush through it without spraining something. I consider this all I can ask for from a hair-cut.
As a result of this, I found myself having to explain to Philb what a ‘toffee spreader’ is.
Many moons ago, when I was a small cute infant, my dad used to brush my hair. This was always a struggle, as I had long hair, and had usually been visited by the mysterious Toffee Spreader, who left inexplicable snarls in his victims’ hair when they weren’t looking. No actual toffee was involved, of course, but it was a reasonable (so I believed) explanation for the multitude of tangles my hair always seemed to contain.
Now I come to explain this, it does sound a bit weird. Maybe I dreamed it.