15. The Crew Cut

This time he meant to do it and no mistake. How many times he'd reached this very same pitch of determination, well, it just didn't bear thinking about. It always seemed so simple, figuring the whole thing out in the quiet of his room. He's simply walk into the shop, say what he wanted, get the job over and done with , and walk out again. As easy as that. Of course, there were one or two details that had to be worked out.  After all, it would be asking a bit too much, expecting it to work out just as you imagined it would., in your mind. No, you could bet your bottom dollar something would turn up out of the ordinary run of things, and there you'd be, nerve gone at the very moment it was needed, and that meant another couple of weeks or so, of going through all the old rigmarole of telling yourself how easy it would all be and what was there to worry about anyway. To say nothing of what the boys would say if he boobed again. He'd just about has enough of having the mickey taken out of him, and besides, he had a feeling that they all though him yellow, although not one of them had had the nerve to say so, at least, not to his face. Bit too handy with his fists, and they knew it. Some of them had good reason and all.

Still, he'd said often enough what he'd so some day, and all the cleverness in the world with his fists wouldn't wipe the sneers off the gang's face every time they knew he'd got windy again. So there it was, now or never, more for his own self respect than anything else, with  the details gone over and over again and no reason why it shouldn't be dead easy. Naturally he hadn't chosen a shop near home where he was known. That was obvious. And dinner-time, he reckoned, when there was less chance of any customers , was about the best time. A stroll past, first of all, taking a quick look in the door as he went by, and if it was empty, then about turn, in the shop, straight up to the bloke and tell him what was wanted. If he could sound as though he was used to being obeyed , and not used to being argued with, then there shouldn't be any trouble. Then give the bloke what he held in his hand at that very moment and out again without any fuss or hurry. Even if anybody did see him coming out, it wouldn't matter than much, as there were thousands of chaps who'd look like him these days, and there was no reason why he should be at all noticeable.

Funny how hot his hand felt in his pocket, making the hard metal slippery with sweat. Well, that's how it was and it wouldn't be long now. There wasn't anybody near the shop so it looked as if he was going to be in luck.

Now then, straight past and a look in the door out of the corner of his eye. Didn't seem to be anyone there as far as he could see, so about turn as if he'd suddenly remembered something, and in the door.

The bloke was sitting on a chair in the corner reading a paper and when he hear the door ping it's little bell, looked up with a big smile of welcome on his face, which quickly changed as he realised right away what he'd come for. Nor for it. The old familiar pounding heart was by now banging like mad, as he felt his determination to really have a go this time slipping away again; then in a flash he saw the boys jeering and saying "Yellow", and he started to give the command he'd practised so often, but before he could get the first word out, the bloke was on his feet with a big lump of wood in his hand.

He looked enormous now he was standing and that curt sentence so authoritative in front of a mirror, froze in his throat as the bloke said: "Blimey, some people never learn that I don't cut kids hair on a Saturday; don't know why your mothers will keep sending you. Still might as well do you while I'm slack, I suppose. Hop up, Trim up and make it tidy, eh ?".

He nodded miserably as he clambered up on to the board that the bloke had put across the chair, and handed over the shilling he had clutched in his hand.

One day he would ask for a crew cut, and get rid of those hateful blonde curls for good.





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Notes: I'd completely forgotten about the board they used to put across the chair when cutting kids hair!  I used to get mine cut at Peter Lazou's in Grant Road, Wealdstone (see the picture - seemingly now Blue Star Afro-European Hair Stylist).  Zero chance of me ever opting for a  crew cut though!