I’ve just returned from the barbers, sporting a little-too-short but neat-and-tidy hairdo.
The barber in question is beyond retirement age and his salon is devoid of music, an expresso machine or skinny teenagers in skinny black jeans. What the place lacks in terms of modernity it makes up for in atmosphere. An old television set sits in the corner, a photo of a Portuguese wrestling hero hangs on the wall and the swivel chair in which you sit dates back to the fifties.
I communicate my wishes with broken phrases, smiles and vague hand motions but it’s my third appointment and he knows what he’ll do.
After 25 minutes of clipping, sheering, wetting and shaving I think he’s done, only to remember that this was but the first stage. What follows is a repeat performance but then in finer detail. Rogue hairs are dispatched with, a closer shave is reached and symmetry achieved. After almost an hour, I’m free to go.
Walking home, I wonder how long he’ll keep babering, if he enjoys it and whether he’s ever considered doing something else.
As a freelance chef I’m afforded the luxury of choosing, within reason, when and where I work. I enjoy this and the relative feeling of freedom it allows. It does have it’s downsides: no work – no income being the obvious one. Maybe in the future I’ll go back to full-time employment but at the moment I’m happy with the choice. And by all accounts free-lancing, job sharing and flexible working practices are gaining popularity. Yet, although my ears are somewhat protruding, I’m happy that this particular barber is a steady and permanent fixture in a back street of Tavira.
The barber in question is beyond retirement age and his salon is devoid of music, an expresso machine or skinny teenagers in skinny black jeans. What the place lacks in terms of modernity it makes up for in atmosphere. An old television set sits in the corner, a photo of a Portuguese wrestling hero hangs on the wall and the swivel chair in which you sit dates back to the fifties.
I communicate my wishes with broken phrases, smiles and vague hand motions but it’s my third appointment and he knows what he’ll do.
After 25 minutes of clipping, sheering, wetting and shaving I think he’s done, only to remember that this was but the first stage. What follows is a repeat performance but then in finer detail. Rogue hairs are dispatched with, a closer shave is reached and symmetry achieved. After almost an hour, I’m free to go.
Walking home, I wonder how long he’ll keep babering, if he enjoys it and whether he’s ever considered doing something else.
As a freelance chef I’m afforded the luxury of choosing, within reason, when and where I work. I enjoy this and the relative feeling of freedom it allows. It does have it’s downsides: no work – no income being the obvious one. Maybe in the future I’ll go back to full-time employment but at the moment I’m happy with the choice. And by all accounts free-lancing, job sharing and flexible working practices are gaining popularity. Yet, although my ears are somewhat protruding, I’m happy that this particular barber is a steady and permanent fixture in a back street of Tavira.
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