Hair today...

One of the drawbacks of being part of a disciplined organisation for three decades is the need to have, and maintain, a spanking short haircut. On the other hand, it might be a positive advantage. It means that your mode of coiffure is mapped out for you years hence, and you have a ready excuse not to indulge in the more extreme styles that might be momentarily fashionable. One less thing for you to worry about, or make a decision about.

Having now left said organisation, the pressing need for a haircut has faded somewhat into the background. I haven't had a trim for around three months, and the results are rather interesting. Davy Crockett's hat springs to mind; or possibly a fat Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen. I have deliberately chosen not to post a photograph at this point. I'm waiting for the rug to settle down a bit, and for the ends to stop flicking up like the model in some sixties knitting pattern.

I'm already discovering downsides to having longer hair. It takes longer to wash, and uses more shampoo, thereby contributing to global warming. It also tends to blow about in the wind and look rather untidy, and I haven't yet reached the stage of nicking my wife's hairspray. That is definitely a bridge too far. But by far the worst is how it looks first thing in the morning. Think Captain Mainwaring's wig inadvertently plugged into a 30,000 volt cable, or roadkill tabby cat. It just looks impossibly awful, but I shall persevere.

The goatee beard is also a little privet hedge-ish at the moment. I suspect I shall end up looking like the Witch Finder General. Oh well...