Right, so about these “grand haircuts”. It wasn’t exactly planned, you know? Like many things, it just sort of happened. We were stuck at home for ages, everyone started looking shaggy, like sheepdogs. The usual barber shop? Closed indefinitely. What do you do?
I remember thinking, how hard can it be? Watched a couple of videos online. Looked easy enough. So, I went and did it. Ordered a cheapo clipper set. Came with a bunch of plastic guards, a comb that felt like it would snap, and scissors that were probably meant for crafting, not hair. But hey, it was a start.
The First Experiments
My son was the first volunteer. Or maybe not volunteer, more like the first one I cornered. Sat him on a stool in the kitchen, threw a towel round his shoulders. Grabbed the clippers. That buzzing sound is louder than you think. Started at the back, tried to follow the instructions. Let’s just say “precision” wasn’t really in the cards that day. Ended up with patches, uneven sides, and a neckline that looked like a dog chewed it. It was a disaster. He wasn’t pleased, but what could we do? Put a hat on him.
Tried it on myself next. That’s a whole other level of difficulty. Trying to see the back of your own head in a mirror? Nearly impossible. Buzzed way too high on one side. Had to try and even it out, ended up shorter than I wanted. Looked like I’d lost a fight with a lawnmower.
- Got the clippers and basic scissors.
- Made the first cuts (badly).
- Realised it’s way harder than it looks online.
- Cleaned up a mountain of hair clippings.
Getting into the Groove… Sort Of
We kept at it, though. Mostly because we had no choice. Every few weeks, out came the clippers again. Did I get better? Marginally. Learned a few tricks, like using the longest guard first and working down. Figured out how to blend… a bit. The necklines still looked wonky half the time, but they were less disastrously wonky. It became this weird routine. Put down newspaper, get the stool, brace for impact.
It wasn’t ever about achieving barber-shop perfection. Forget “grand” in that sense. It was more about just… managing. Keeping things tidy enough so we didn’t look completely feral. It was practical. Saved a bit of cash too, I guess, though that wasn’t the main point.
Funny thing is, it reminded me of other stuff we had to figure out back then. Fixing leaky taps from watching videos, trying weird recipes because the usual stuff was gone from the shops. You just muddle through, don’t you? Make do. These haircuts, they weren’t “grand” because they looked amazing. They were “grand” because we just did it. We tackled this little problem ourselves, laughed at the bad results, and carried on. It became part of the whole strange experience, another one of those skills you never thought you’d need but picked up anyway. We don’t do it much anymore, things are back to normal. But sometimes I see those clippers in the drawer and remember that whole period. Yeah, grand haircuts indeed.
