mostly david ephgrave

The grey hairs appearing at my temples think they’ve gone unnoticed, but they haven’t. At first, there was just one, of inconclusive greyness; the difference could have been due to hair product. Looking back though, I was burying my rapidly frosting head in the sand: why would my daily two-pronged matt clay and hairspray attack result in a white hair in exactly the same place? While I wasn’t bothered by this potential change, I couldn’t help but keep an eye on it, particularly post-haircut. That was the ultimate litmus test, with results showing up grey instead of purple (though the latter would explain Phyllis from Coronation Street). A few visits to the barber later and the results are in; someone’s follicles have reduced their melanin output and that someone is me . I’m not that concerned, to be honest; plenty of people grey far earlier than me. That said, it raises the inevitable question: how long before I switch from Grease-era John T...

If I end 2015 with the same hairline I’ll be happy. That’s not strictly true. In an ideal world, December David will have slightly more up front than Current-day David is sporting at the moment. Not too much. I don't want to be greedy. Just a few extra producing follicles front-left and front-right. When it comes to my head, something’s afoot. I should have said that in fewer body parts. There’s a small shift taking place in the frontline of my barnet. Let me put it like this: if my face was the location for Michael Caine’s breakthrough 1964 film Zulu, and my forehead the missionary station Rorke’s Drift, Caine and his compatriots would have had a lot less to fear from the soon-to-be-advancing Bantu ethnic army. There would have been a couple of escape routes on the horizon at the very least. (In other words, I think my hair's receding a bit.) If it’s true, it’s a worrying reminder of passing time. There’s no going back. I don’t want to be bald before I’m succe...

Today I had my hair cut twice. This might sound like the height of excess. Perhaps you think I’ve got a problem: an addiction to trimming that’s never satiated. Either that, or my hair just grows at an alarming rate. Neither of the above are true; the reason for today’s literal double-header was the first haircut was so disastrous I needed another barber to clean up the hatchet job. I’ve visited the first shop previously without incident. I’m usually quite happy with the results. I’d never seen this particular guy in there before, though; I’m starting to wonder if he was just another customer chancing his arm.  It certainly didn't seem like he'd ever held a pair of scissors. He was the only person in the shop when I arrived. Perhaps the real barber was being held hostage in a room around the back. (Should I phone someone about this?) I didn’t realise how bad my haircut was until the last few snips. This showed t...