Sunday Scribblers are letting down their hair this week and this provoked the following chidlhood memory.
I often wondered what he must have looked like. And since that day I've never experienced the desire to become a hairdresser. But for a few brief minutes the bug hit me and I couldn't resist it, especially once my tools actually started working.
I was just five at the time, so this really does go back very many years. My mother needed to go shopping and my brother and myself were playing happily with each other, so she didn't want to take us along. She would only be out of the house some 15 minutes anyway. The game that absorbed us so long was that of haircutting. We had been given a toy barber's set to play with. I think it must have been one of our favourite toys because I remember playing with it quite often. It was all plastic and consisted of two combs, a pair of scissors and a small hand mirror. I was in the chair and my three year old brother was deftly finishing off his handiwork before letting me take over the reins. Well, when I did, I soon grew quite restless. The scissors weren't cutting as they should. I don't know why that should bother me on that particular day as it had never bothered me before, but it did. So I went off in search of a remedy to the problem. I'm sure you can imagine the consequences, as indeed I have to do because I honestly can't remember what happened next.
What I do remember is my pride at my handiwork. And then that look on my mother's face. I had bounded up to her the moment she came through the door, so full of myself. I wanted her to know what I had succeeded in doing. It was, after all, the first time that our barber's set had actually managed to give someone a proper haircut. I don't know what made my mother suspect something was not quite as it should be. Maybe I sported some tell tale hairs on my shirt. But the surprise and horror of that look she gave me sent me racing to my favourite hideaway where I stayed for a good long time.
Postscript: What had made matters worse, was that my brother was starting school for the first time just a few days later. And, apparantly, he did look quite a sight. My mother yanked him down to the local barber's - the proper one with real tools and hopefully a little more skill than I had - to try and get his hair tidied up a bit. I just wish I had a photo of him to share.
Labels: Sunday Scribblings