I was beginning to look like a zombie apocalypse survivor, wild of hair and eye in dirty holey jeans and combat jacket. My hair seems to be growing faster these days, must be a hormone thing.
It’s best to deal with these things in stages so I decided on the beard first. I stood there in front of the mirror looking at my chin like like a footballer sizing up the penalty that would bring him the trophy and all the glory that comes with it, except I’m old, fat and more intelligent.
I looked up, down, left and right, grinned, pursed, stretched and grimaced before introducing (it’s the right word, I checked) the beard trimmer to its mighty task of strands in faded brown and purest white. The first pass slowed the blades alarmingly, but it was a clean sweep nonetheless – success.
It’s an old tool, but I like it, I’ve tried newer versions but I’ve never found them as easy to wield. It has many plastic parts, and I suppose they do wear quicker than metal, but in all the years I’ve had it it’s never even blinked never mind failed.
Set to “4” for my chin, the second pass began. The hair is long and wiry, the battery weakened by overwork, the plastic-blade guard worn from countless adjustment and removal for cleaning, the hand that guided it was eager to be done and to feel young again. Under that much pressure something had to give, it just had too.
The blade-guard slipped down to “1” and the second pass dug a trough down to the skin like Superman’s space travel pod crashing into a Smallville field coincedentally close to Glenn Ford’s truck.
I pointlessly reset the trimmer to 4 and looked ashen faced at the damage. No way was I hiding that, I looked like a bus with a wheelie bin thrown through it’s windscreen, folk would notice. They only way was to chip out the rest of the broken glass and pretend that’s the way I like it: alfresco.
I slowly returned my engine of destruction back to 1 and set about clearing the whole site until nothing was left standing. I leaned on the edge of the sink with both hands and leaned into the mirror, I raised my face to look myself in the eye. Bloody hell, I look like a pink potato.