Craic On

The Halloween wig I have bought myself at a bargain price is destined for the Grand’s dressing up box. Too scratchy! Yesterday I woke up to find that the short back and sides that I had a few weeks ago, were attached to my face and not to my head. This wasn’t a migration of rootstock during the night, but a jettisoning of my locks, to reveal a pinker scalp than I imagined. I text Jackie, “hairdresser to the stars and your humble servant.” “Don’t worry. I’m going to give you a close cut, in fact it will be so close that you are going to look like Audrey Hepburn in her younger days.” “More like Matt Lucus,” I burbled. An image of myself as a giant bonneted baby came into my mind. I had to shake myself out of it. In shaking myself out of it a bit more hair fell out. Turning myself into a second rate tribute to Audrey Hepburn in her younger days, took a good hour and then I had to get the hoover out to clean up what was now lying on the floor. On the up side, I won’t need another haircut in six weeks, or even