<p>The extended lockdown had me itching for a haircut like a thousand others. Two-months spent indoors meant a long sabbatical from the barbers, and the salt and pepper strands had grown wild. The look — hippie style — raised eyebrows from the neighbours. They even cast quizzical glances at me, as if to suggest that I had descended from another planet.</p>.<p>Long, flowing mane — even with a receding hairline — camouflaged my ears and formed a small tail at the rear. The sweltering summer with the hairy mass and ubiquitous power outages proved an ordeal. The Covid-19 pandemic had forced hairdressing salons to down their shutters, leaving me tearing my hair in frustration.</p>.<p>“Good morning, sir!” wished the neighbour, as I set out on my morning stroll. He was sporting a new French beard, and a well-trimmed hair to go with it. While I responded in kind and wondered where he got his haircut done, he remarked, “my better half made me look better with a prompt trim.” The clockwork precision with which she had done the job left me impressed. A brainwave struck me at once. Why not ape this strategy and ask my significant other — a greenhorn at hair jobs — to step into the barber’s shoes, just for a day?</p>.<p>When I turned to the spouse and made a plea, she shot back, “Be ready tomorrow afternoon.” “Today is a Tuesday.” Her words put me at ease, and I thanked my lucky stars. There is a widespread belief of not having nails and hair cut on Tuesdays for which I cannot find a convincing answer. Even salons stay closed on that day fearing lousy luck!</p>.<p>On the D-day, the wife did not disappoint with her debut performance. Armed with the tools of the trade — comb, scissor and water gun, she surveyed my head a la an eagle from his perch before going through the motions.</p>.<p>She targeted the overgrown areas and attacked them first. The geometry of cropping did not appear complicated as she cut straight lines, drew angles and shaped the U’s behind the earlobes.</p>.<p>My scalp turned out to be a batsman’s paradise as cuts, square cuts, and straight drives flowed from her shears. The ‘late cuts’ came as a grand finale, only to double-check that everything was in order. Soon my head felt lighter, and I heaved a sigh of relief. It was a job well done!</p>
<p>The extended lockdown had me itching for a haircut like a thousand others. Two-months spent indoors meant a long sabbatical from the barbers, and the salt and pepper strands had grown wild. The look — hippie style — raised eyebrows from the neighbours. They even cast quizzical glances at me, as if to suggest that I had descended from another planet.</p>.<p>Long, flowing mane — even with a receding hairline — camouflaged my ears and formed a small tail at the rear. The sweltering summer with the hairy mass and ubiquitous power outages proved an ordeal. The Covid-19 pandemic had forced hairdressing salons to down their shutters, leaving me tearing my hair in frustration.</p>.<p>“Good morning, sir!” wished the neighbour, as I set out on my morning stroll. He was sporting a new French beard, and a well-trimmed hair to go with it. While I responded in kind and wondered where he got his haircut done, he remarked, “my better half made me look better with a prompt trim.” The clockwork precision with which she had done the job left me impressed. A brainwave struck me at once. Why not ape this strategy and ask my significant other — a greenhorn at hair jobs — to step into the barber’s shoes, just for a day?</p>.<p>When I turned to the spouse and made a plea, she shot back, “Be ready tomorrow afternoon.” “Today is a Tuesday.” Her words put me at ease, and I thanked my lucky stars. There is a widespread belief of not having nails and hair cut on Tuesdays for which I cannot find a convincing answer. Even salons stay closed on that day fearing lousy luck!</p>.<p>On the D-day, the wife did not disappoint with her debut performance. Armed with the tools of the trade — comb, scissor and water gun, she surveyed my head a la an eagle from his perch before going through the motions.</p>.<p>She targeted the overgrown areas and attacked them first. The geometry of cropping did not appear complicated as she cut straight lines, drew angles and shaped the U’s behind the earlobes.</p>.<p>My scalp turned out to be a batsman’s paradise as cuts, square cuts, and straight drives flowed from her shears. The ‘late cuts’ came as a grand finale, only to double-check that everything was in order. Soon my head felt lighter, and I heaved a sigh of relief. It was a job well done!</p>