A Busy Day at Master Barber's Busy Barber Shop  (Part 14)

As Sir walked towards back towards the Barber Shop’s front door he turned and looked at the younger lady haircutter and said “sweep up the piles of hair while I get a quick puff please

Analyn“ all I could think of was the images of my grandfather’s fortnightly shearing of my curly blond hair in the backyard that filled my head at the spur of the moment.

My grandfather would arrive at our house in his 1960’s white ford falcon together with my grandmother; park it on the front lawn seeing we had no garage or carport.

As a school boy in my teens, wearing knee length shorts which were previously my old and faded Levies Blue Denim Jeans,  before I took to them with my mother dress making shears transforming them to knee length shorts and my trademark white Levies crew neck tee-shirt.  I was my grandmother’s first and favorite grandson.

My parents were poor and had no money in those days to pay for Barber Shop Haircuts on a regular basis. I attended a very strict boy’s grammar school and our hair had to be kept very short and meticulous in line with the schools haircut policy or otherwise be subjected to a caning from the Headmaster at morning assembly in front of the whole school. 

May father made barely enough to pay the bills, and the little pocket money my parents gave me every month barely paid for daily visits to the school tuck shop. My clothes were either hand downs from friends and relatives or bought from second hand stores around town, as it was all my parents could afford.

My clothes weren't great so I often got creative and would cut them up and mix the different garments together, especially my old long sleeve white school shirts. I loved wearing white with my denim shorts and was seen dressed in a hacked old white school shirt or levies crew neck tee shirt whenever I was not wearing my school uniform.

I had created what was considered a funkier wardrobe and given myself an edgy new style standing out among my friends at times.

My hair was always becoming a problem as it grew back quickly and my parents just couldn't afford to get it cut for me in a proper barber shop or salon and I really had no choice or option to keep it long save me having an awfully saw bum and palms as a result of the headmasters caning for not wearing a regulation school haircut.

Caning a form of Corporal Punishment was and is still allowed at some of the elite grammar schools around the world.

Every Monday morning all twelve hundred (1200) boys stood in perfect straight lines as the school’s prefects would walk the isles of the assembly hall and do their hair and attire check inspection during morning assembly. This happened each and every week of the school term without fail on each and every boy.

Boys would be standing up straight at attention facing the stage at the front of the assembly hall with their hands behind their backs and not a word spoken.  Prefects would walk down each isle and check each boys hair, to ensure is was not touching his ears or collar, that is was neatly parted and combed with no hair protruding on the boy’s fringe.  When a boy did not pass the hair and attire check / inspection the prefect would simply tap the boy on his right shoulder and say front and center boy.

Our hair had to be cut short back and sides, a very high and tight fade with a part down the left side at all times and was always to be the perfect image of a kid out of the 1950's.

When a boy was tapped on the right shoulder we weren't allowed to question the prefect or say a single word we simply left the isle and went to the front of the assembly hall and formed a straight line with our backs facing the stage where we again stood at attention for the duration of the assembly until the headmaster reached the end of his talk and closed by saying with a stern voice “it’s time ……its time……”.

The Headmaster would then make his was down from the stage his cane in hand and go to the fist boy in line, tap the cane gently against the boys hand and say hand out boy indicating it was time to hold out your right hand with open palm before he commenced the caning.

Their was always allot of talk around the school of ideas for reducing the sting of the cane on ones’ hand. The most common one was where we would spit on our hands and then vigorously rub our hands together before the caning. I don't know if it made any difference at all, because I never had the guts to try it but at least you had the feeling that you could have done something.

At our school if the Headmaster caught you trying to reduce the pain of his cane by spitting on your hand or even pulling your hand away to avoid the caning, he would immediately pull a chair forward and tap the cane gently against the seat telling you to remove your blazer, then to lower your charcoal grey trousers and underpants in front of the whole school before bending forward and leaning on the back of the chair that faced you. Once in this state the humiliation of this was nothing compared to the strokes caused to ones bum.

If the caning was to your hand you got three strokes, however if it ended up on the bum it was automatically increased to six strokes.

For my first of many caning's for different reasons whilst at school I felt very vulnerable and small at that moment, knowing that there was now no escape from my first ever proper beating simply for not listening to my grandmothers’ call to head my grandfathers’ voice repeatedly calling me out to the backyard for my shearing on the Sunday.

I couldn't stop screaming and sobbing from the beginning and pulled my had away before the first stroke of the cane made contact resulting in my worst nightmare.

Soon I was lowering my charcoal grey trousers and underpants in front of the whole school before bending forward and leaning on the back of the chair that faced me and the world seemed to stand still.

It must have only taken a few seconds for the caning to commence, but to me it seemed like hours. I had seen cane marks on the bottoms of other boys who had had it before me and when we went in the showers after Physical Education (PE) lessons, and my best friend had already been caned a couple of times for not getting his haircut too and had talked to me about it, saying that it hurt with a kind of intense burning feeling in a thin line right across ones bum.

I guess I was kind of curious to know what it would be like, but at the same time I was also terrified, as my parents had only ever spanked me with their hands up to that time. I realized that the cane would be worse than a hand spanking.

With a high whistling swishy noise, the cane swung through the air, and with a cracking sound like a pistol being fired it made its impact across the middle of my tender bottom. I gasped and closed my eyes. Ouch! It hurt more than I had anticipated, and all my instincts told me to jump up and rub my sore bottom better.

I knew that I had to stay down and take my punishment though, or I would only make things worse for myself - I was after all receiving this caning on my bum for attempting to evade the same by pulling away my hand.

Another swish in the air behind me alerted me to the imminent arrival of the second stroke across my bottom. I scarcely had a moment to register the thought though, before the terrible sharp cracking noise echoed around the room accompanying the appearance of a second line of pain across my poor bum! If anything the second stroke, just a little below the first, hurt even more, and I think on this occasion I let out a yell of anguish.

The Headmaster showed no mercy to my suffering form though, and took aim again and again for the third, fourth, fifth and sixth stroke. With a swish and a crack, one sharp cutting pain after another was administered across the lower part of my buttocks, as I howled in agony, clawing pathetically at the chair.

The Headmaster then told me to stand up, which I did somewhat painfully. "Now let that be a lesson next time you decide not to get your haircut boy" he told me, before to the next boy in line.

After the caning we would go to the loos and compare marks and then run the cold tap over our faces to wash away the tears. 

As soon as I was out of  assembly hall, my hands went to my bottom, rubbing the stinging marks under my trousers and pants, and I immediately started crying - I just couldn't help myself, it was a shock reaction and also a relief that the ordeal was over.

I tried very hard to pull myself together before I arrived late at my lesson, but my red eyes would have told everyone that I'd been crying, and the discomfort with which I sat on my chair would surely have made it obvious as to why and the horrific memory was repeatedly triggered with my grandfather’s voice repeatedly calling me out to the backyard for my shearing on a Sunday and my grandmothers’ call to head my grandfathers’ voice and get my buttocks in the chair out in the backyard.

It was two days before my birthday and as usual my grandfather was in our backyard watering his tomato plants when my mother and grandmother looked at with a smile on their faces me and said “your grandfather is waiting for you isn't he?”

“No mummy he is watering his tomato's” I answered as I continued watching the football game on the old television set in the family room facing the porch and backyard.

Grandma suddenly stood up stuck her head out on the porch and said to Grandpa in a loud voice “for the love of god could you please leave the darn tomato's for now to slash off and hack short your grandson’s overgrown tresses of hair before his birthday and school tomorrow pa”.

My mum at this point had already gone to the laundry room and taken out an old table cloth that grandpa always used as a cape when he gave me a haircut as well as a small face towel and had them ready in her hand.

There was no reply from Grandpa, but I could see him look at Grandma, smile and shake his head in agreement.  He had a habit of shaking his head from side to side when he meant "yes. This is a curious non-verbal way of agreeing most common in the Indian culture even though Grandpa had no Indian heritage or blood whatsoever. 

He always told me that it was a habit he picked up from his old army mates, so it was rare that he would be heard saying yes repeatedly to anything and all had learnt to be careful of how we interpreted his signals.

I realized at this point that a shearing was about to take place that day as mummy and grandma's way of getting me to remember this birthday and ready myself for another Monday school assembly.

My grandpa was incredibly hospitable, and sometimes is easily offended and angered if refused or ignored.  It was not uncommon for him to invite someone in from off the street or a neighbor for tea or coffee whilst he kept busy in the backyard or even to watch as he took to shearing my head like sheep. It was common for a neighbor or even a stranger to sit on the grass or concrete patio landing floor with their legs crossed sipping tea or coffee and watching me getting shorn. 

At the back of my mind was the horrific caning which I could face again and deep down in my heart, I really wanted to hear grandfather’s voice calling me out to the backyard for my shearing but was too shy to say so or remind mummy or grandma let alone grandpa.

Just thinking back my hair was actually getting too long since my last shearing some six weeks earlier before my exam session and I really wanted him to say or do something about it. It was getting too long and it needed something done otherwise I was guaranteed a canning on Monday as the prefects would not overlook my hair’s scruffiness again as it was becoming too obvious.

From the minute I got home on Friday night after school and looked in the mirror, I could not stop being nervous about going to school on Monday looking the way I did.

I even called Grandma on Friday night to say hello and ask her if she and Grandpa were coming over this weekend as I missed them and wanted to eat some of her famous Lentil Soup. The reality and deep down truth was that I hated her Lentil soup but wanted very much for her to remind Grandpa my boofy head covered with curly blond hair tresses needed another serious crop and schoolboy shearing.

The football game was now in its last two minutes of play and my favorite team had lost by two goals as I suddenly heard my Grandma turn to Mummy and say where is that table cloth and face towel you had in your hand..?  with a serious tone of voice.

Mummy replied “right there on the sofa next to the coffee table” and smiled at Grandma knowing well what was to soon become of her boy’s messy curly blond hair tresses.

Grandma took the table cloth and face towel and made her way out to the backyard taking with her the red plastic chair and folded card table from the porch and placed them on the grass at the end of the concrete patio landing floor.

She then looked at Grandpa with her hands at herb waste and said “the football game is finishing and your tomato plants can wait… now go get your stuff from the car and stop wasting time…”in a very loud and serious voice.

Grandpa just looked at Grandma and again smiled and shook his head in agreement, which indicated that he agreed and was saying "yes…OK”.

The siren went and the Footy game was over so I got up and made my way to the fridge for a glass of chocolate milk to cool down.

Just as I was about to sit on the sofa next to Grandma, I could see Grandpa unfolding the card table and positioning it on the lawn to right of the red plastic chair before walking back to his car parked on the front lawn.

I pretended as if I did not know what was going on and said “Mummy can I go to the neighbors house next door for a while…………please Mummy?”

Mummy made eye contact with Grandma and said to me “No going anywhere… your Grandpa will be calling you to the backyard any minute I think” with a smile and sigh of relief on her face.

True to her words Grandpa could now be seen emptying his brown leather bag of his barber tools onto the card table and laying them out.  He then took the container of talcum powder out of his bag, placed it on the table removing the lid and checking that the sponge he used to apply it was there.

He then took to oiling his Smith Chu Professional Manual hair clippers before opening a new packet of double edge blades and replacing the blades on his Stylist Barber Comb, and Double Edged Hair Trimmer Razor Comb.  

With the old blades he just replaced in a tissue in his hand he walked back to patio landing and to the sliding door between the patio and the family room where we were, looked at Mummy and said “OK, put these in the rubbish and get me some water in a soup bowl please” before walking back to the card table.

He picked up the table cloth and face towel and put them at the corner of the card table closest the back of the chair before raising his head to face me and all could hear grandfather’s voice calling me out to the backyard for my shearing, which again I pretended to ignore the first time and second time before Mummy said “get your backside out to the backyard now before I drag you and take this bowl of water with you” with a serious look on her face.

I slowly got up off the sofa next to Grandma, and took the bowl of water from Mummy’s hands before I sauntered dragging my feet thus walked in a very slow and relaxed way towards the sliding door between the patio and the family room, once my feet touched the concrete patio landing I remember  Swaggering and walking with a sense of urgency, aggressive self-confidence, stealthily towards the red plastic chair as if I were Charlie in pursuit of his Golden Ticket opportunity into  Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

After all Charlie was a poor boy just as desperate for the opportunity to tour the most eccentric and wonderful candy factory of all as I was a poor boy desperate to rid myself of the boofy head covered with curly blond hair tresses let alone another Monday caning.

Crazy as it might sound my parents were so poor they could not afford to pay two dollars or so to a hole-in-the-wall type barber in my area for my much needed regular serious crop and schoolboy shearing.

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory was a family musical movie back in 1971.

As my buttocks neared the front of the red plastic chair, grandpa took the bowl of water from my hands and placed it on the unfolded the card table, positioning it just next to the talcum powder before he put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me back into the red plastic chair which was his barber’s chair.

I slid into the chair and ran my fingers through the curly tresses that covered my fringe one more time knowing that soon it would be all gone and only another figment of my childhood imagination.

“Your hair is so thick and grows back so quickly, what am I going to do with you?” grandpa asked me as he reached for the table cloth being his cape.

He picked up the cape and with a sudden violent flick emanating from the action placed it around my body, simultaneously pulling the cape up securely and forcing it around my neck, pinning it securely and fastening it tightly around my neck and covering up my white tee shirt and knee length denim shorts.  

Grandpa then muttered” really short this time I think” as he picked up a comb and walked around my left side and combed out my tresses.

He soon put down the comb and took the sponge sitting on top of the container of talcum powder  and dabbed it into the talc before applying talc on the hair at the sides, sideburns, then the back of my head  and neckline that were soaked of perspiration.

Talcum powder (Talc) is commonly applied by barbers before a haircut especially when the customer has perspiration, long hair and is about to have it cut short. Barbers’ will never cut wet hair with clippers or a Hair Razor Comb because wet hair will make the cutting process uneven and cause the blades to rust.  Applying Talcum powder will help to dry perspiration up, keep the hairs from adhering to the skin and ease the cutting process for the blades ensuring a more even crop.

His hand returned to the container of Talc a number of times dabbing the sponge more and more and ensuring he had applied talcum on both sides and at the back.

As he tilted my head forward and applied the talc at the back, my grandma could be heard yelling out to him “make it nice and short pap”.  The words pap, gramps and grand pappy are slang for Grandpa.

Soon he let go of my head for a few seconds as I looked up and saw the smile on Mummy and Grandma’s faces standing at the sliding door between the patio and the family room enjoying the sight my hair being shorn off.

Grandpa now turned to his Smith Chu Professional hair cutting tool combination set laid out in a leather case he had previously unzipped and placed on the card table and picked up his Hair Razor Comb a Double Edged Hair Trimmer and Cutter Comb before he came back behind me again and abruptly without notice tilted my head straight down to my chest and began working his Razor Comb at the back of my head.

All I could feel was the screech of the razor blades munching into my tresses of thick blond hair, and all I could see is small curls of hair fall onto my lap. Stroke after stroke of the razor comb small curls of hair continued to rain down onto my lap until there was a sudden break for a few seconds before the blades could be felt munching into my hair again but it was now a much deeper munching sound.

All I could see now was my chest and the much longer chunks of hair that continued to rain down on to my lap and the grass. Grandpa had obviously switched from the trim side of the Razor Comb to the Cut or Crop side thus the deeper munching sound as more hair was being cut off. Hair Razor Combs are commonly Double Edged and offer for different gradual cutting lengths being trim, cut, crop and shave.  Shave was off course the very shortest.

The piles of hair in my lap were getting bigger and bigger by the minute, as he let go of my head and moved to my left side and tilted my head towards the right. He took to it with the Razor Comb showing no mercy as he immediately opted for the Cut or Crop side as longer chunks of hair continued to rain down on to my lap and the grass.

Some would have expected this young school boy to be heard sulking he continued seeing the piles of her blond tresses cover the lawn around the barbers’ chair before my very own eyes. It was not apparent but I felt overwhelmed at the thought of another caning and could only breathe a sigh of relief as more and more of my tresses continued to rain down and cover that green grass.   

Around to my right side he now moved tilting my head abruptly towards left and taking to it with his the Razor Comb and showing no mercy as he again opted immediately for the Cut or Crop side as longer chunks of hair continued to rain down on to my lap and the grass.

The deep munching of the blades continued for some minutes on my left side before he let go of my head and I could look up at sky for what appeared to be a long-time but in reality was only a minute or so before Grandpa picked up his dusting brush and brushed off all the chunks of hair resting on my neck and shoulder into my lap and onto the grass.

The dusting brush was back on the unfolded card table and Grandpa picked up his Andis Comb and Smith Chu Professional Barber Scissors.

He walked around to my left side again and started combing out the area he had already cut with the Razor Comb. He slid his comb into my hair and dove in with his scissors. I watched in astonishment at how fast he cut away at my hair on my left side, neatening up the area over my left ear with his scissors over his comb down to a tapered slope.

Chunks of hair more than 15” in length continued raining down onto the cape in front of me time after time. He came back around behind me and started by tilting my head forward again and cutting away at the back, cutting off all the 15” or longer lengths and working away neatening up the back of my head with his scissors over his comb down to a tapered slope.

He let go of my head yet again as he moved his way around to my right side and continued sliding his comb into my hair and diving in with his scissors until my hair was taken off to its new short length tapered slope.

I watched in astonishment and a sense of respect and admiration at how fast he continued to cut away at my hair.

Now, put his Andis Comb and Smith Chu Professional Barber Scissors down again for a few seconds and took to wet the locks of hair on top of my head.

He came around to my left side and using his comb sectioned off the wet locks of hair on top of my head creating a part down the left side before he began cutting away reducing it to what felt like only a few inches long on top.

All I could feel were the scissors cranking and crunching their way through chunks of wet hair that rained down onto my lap as Grandpa showed no mercy and made quick work my hair’s shearing and accounting for the words” really short this time I think” he had muttered earlier after having pulled the cape up securely and forced it around my neck.

My Mummy and Grandma walked out into the backyard and made their way along concrete patio landing towards the red plastic chair where my buttocks were rested and neared the front of the chair to inspect my shearing in progress.

My Grandpa’s scissors continued crunching their way through chunks of my wet hair as Grandma commented “a little shorter on the top would be better” then Mummy walked to the back of the chair and said “shorter at his back and sides too…his hair is thick and grows back quickly”.

Grandma added “I thinks so too Pap…..nice and short better pap”.

Grandpa (Pap) said nothing but could be seen smile and shake his head in agreement, which indicated that he agreed and was saying "yes…OK”.  He now continued to slide his comb into my hair and dive in with his scissors but with a sense of more urgency and speed.

The feeling and sound of scissors crunching their way through my wet hair suddenly stopped and the hair on the top of my head was taken off to its new shorter length which felt like it was less than three or so inches long on top.

He picked up his Smith Chu Professional Manual hair clippers and Andis Comb again and moved to the back of my head, tilted my head down to my chest and cleaned up the back leaving it shorter with a nice sloped taper to the longer length on top.

He was very fast with the cutting and soon let go of head moving to my right side tilting my head to the left and cutting away at my hair on my right side, neatening up the area over my right ear and leaving me with an even shorter tapered slope as suggested by Mummy and Grandma.

All I could feel was the manual clippers work their way shearing my tresses down to a schools boy’s regulation short …. Short Back and Sides.

Grandpa let go of head moving to my left side tilting my head to the right and cutting away at my hair on my left side, neatening up the area over my left ear and leaving me with an even shorter tapered slope.

He then used a straight razor to shave clean my neck and the hairline behind my ears, before picking up his dusting brush to give me a light dusting with some manly smelling talc and soothe the skin after its close encounter with the straight edge razor.

I remember how I shook at the sensation of the straight razor. I felt him slide his thumb around my ears and move in quickly after with the straight razor, shaving around my ears towards my nape. He would wipe the razor on the face towel he placed on my shoulder before starting with straight razor and continue with the next part.

Grandpa again turned to the card table and used the bowl of water to slightly dampen my hair then turned to the unfolded card table, his work bench and opened a jar of Brylcreem. I recognized the jar as my grandfather always used it on my head or that of my cousins or neighbors kids after giving anyone of them a shearing in the backyard or kitchen if it was a rainy day.

It became a norm for cousins and neighbors to visit our house when Grandma and Grandpa were there bringing the kids for their shearing.

Grandpa grabbed a large dollop of the Brylcreem and massaged it slowly into my hair. He worked it in by running his hands though my hair until every hair was thoroughly greased.

Again he put his hand back in the jar and added another dollop and another until my thick hair was extremely shiny with grease.

Soon he went back to his card table and picked up his Short Toothed Barbers Styling Comb before returning from behind the barbers’ chair and without saying word firmly grasped and tilted my head back towards him.

He combed my hair into place, taking care to create a sharp part and swept back style with his trademark schoolboy sleeked back fringe that just barely covered a boy’s forehead.

He let go of my head, took his handheld mirror from the card table and held it in front me so that I could see myself and said “much better now…. much better”.

I was a bit surprised at the image of the new short haircut in front of me as it was shorter than any of my previous shearing’s and knew that this would become the norm from now on not only for me but all the cousins and or neighbors kids . 

I smiled as I took in my reflection, barely recognized myself -- a kid out of the 1950's looked back at me from the mirror. My hair was cut in a very high and tight fade with a part down the left side.

Grandpa now unpinned the table cloth, his barbers cape and slid the cape off me before he looked towards Mummy and Grandma saying “Ma call  Milosz and ask him to bring his two boys for their haircut seeing I am all set up now” as he ushered me out of the chair.

At the back of my mind and deep down in my heart all I could do is celebrate the joy of not having to endure another horrific caning which I would have without any doubt faced on Monday had Grandpa not indulged me with a backyard shearing.

Surprisingly my Grandpa smiled as he spoke out and could be heard saying out loud “Very nice ….. Very Short…. I must say” as I walked back towards the family room.           

Milosz, was our next door neighbor and his two sons both of the same age as me attended the same school as me and faced a caning for their overgrown long hair more often then I did.

Mummy told me to go next door and ask Uncle Milosz if he wanted to send his boys Antoine and Silvio over for Grandpa to take care of.

I went over and knocked on the door, Uncle Milosz opened the door and greeted me saying very nice haircut... very nice” Grandpa said “bring Antoine and Silvio over now for their haircut seeing he is all set up now” .

“That would be great, we’ll be there in a few minutes” Uncle Milosz said as he turned towards the passage way and yelled out “boys off your asses now and get you haircuts now” to his sons.

Silvio was quick to reply “OK daddy” and came to the front door with a smile on his face, looked at me and said “wow you won’t be getting the thrashing of the cane on Monday will you….lets go…”. I smiled and said “you like it…………it’s really short and knowing Pap your about to be shorn the same”.  

“Off you go then………I will bring your lazy brother over soon” said Uncle Milosz to Silvio and me.

As we walked back home, Silvio looked at me and said “I saw you in the backyard getting your haircut and was really hoping that your Grandpa would make my wish true and do us today to…..my bum couldn't stand another whipping of the cane with a smile of relief on his face”.

Mummy was at our front door as me and Silvio walked back into the house and said “hurry up Silvia Pap is waiting”.  Silvio made quick time walking almost jogging down the passage way to the family room and out the sliding doors.

As Silvio stepped onto the patio Grandma looked at Pap and said “Pap the same for this one nice and short…”.

Pap made eye contact said nothing but could be seen smile and shake his head in agreement, which indicated that he agreed and was saying "yes…OK” as he continued to re-arrange his combs and scissors on his work bench  being unfolded card table.

Once Silvio’s feet touched the concrete patio landing I remember him Swaggering and walking with a sense of urgency just as I did towards the red plastic chair.

As he reached the end of the patio landing and his buttocks were now almost in front of the red plastic chair, he looked at Pap and said “ I am all ready Grandpa” with a smile on his face.

Pap smiled back and continued organizing his combs and scissors for a few more minutes, before he put his hand on Silvio’s shoulder and pulled him back into the red plastic chair which was his barber’s chair just as he had done to me.

“Where is your brother?” Pap asked.

“Sooking at home as usual Grandpa” said Silvio.

“He always moans and sulks that brother of yours….. Its time he stopped feeling sorry for himself I think” said Pap with a smile on his face.

Silvio slid into the chair, raised is hand and was just about to run his fingers through his long tresses of black hair that covered his fringe and eyelashes at front and completely covered his ears at his sides as Grandpa blocked his hand with a sudden violent flick of the cape and placed it around his  body, simultaneously pulling the cape up securely and forcing it around his neck, pinning it securely and fastening it tightly around his neck and covering up his red tee shirt and knee length khaki shorts.  

Silvio sat in the barbers’ chair silently and showed no reaction to his hand being blocked and made no attempt to try again one more time. Deep down he knew that trying again would only aggravate Pap and that soon all his thick black hair would be gone and just another figment of imagination until it grows again.

“Your hair is also so thick and grows back so quickly Silvio, all you lads are the same looking like rat bag hooligans these days’… what am I going to do with you lads?” grandpa asked me as he reached for the table cloth being his cape.

Grandpa then looked at me and muttered” really short this rat bag too this time I think” with a smile on his face as he lightly patted Silvio’s head with his right hand in a friendly gesture before he  picked up a comb and walked around to Silvio’s left side and combed out his tresses.

“You and your mates look like real rat bags sometimes, and need a good shearing out of such antics" said Pap looking me in the face.

Silvio’s hair at this point hadn’t been cut for more than thirteen weeks, because he and his family were away visiting relatives last time Pap gave me a shearing some six weeks ago before our schools’ exam session. Silvio looked more like a member of Beatles with hair covering his eyelashes, ears and very low at the back that it completely covers his school shirt’s collar.

Rat bag is slang for Trouble maker or someone causing havoc - the term Rat bag is used its used in a non offence way and associated with a scruffy look, hair log and uncombed,

The Beatles hairstyle, also known as the mop-top (or mop top) because of its resemblance to a mop —is a mid-length hairstyle named after and popularized by the Beatles. It is a straight cut – collar-length at the back and over the ears at the sides, with a straight fringe (bangs).  By the late 1960's, The Beatles generally had much longer hair than they had during the Beatlemania era, and it appeared as if Silvio with his long tresses was looking, much like them or other rock stars such as Jeff Lynne and Phil Collins did in the 1970's.

Mummy walked over and said “Pap his mum just called to say the shorter the better please Pap” referring to Silvio & his brothers’ haircuts.

Pap just shook his head in agreement as usual as he dabbed his sponge into container of talcum powder before applying talc on the hair at Silvio’s sides and sideburns.

His hand returned to the container of Talc a number of times dabbing the sponge more and more and applying it to the back of Silvio’s head and neckline that were soaked of perspiration.

Pap now returned the sponge to the to the container of Talc and turned to his Smith Chu Professional hair cutting tool combination set laid out in its leather case and picked up his Hair Razor Comb a Double Edged Hair Trimmer and Cutter Comb.

He came back behind the Beatles look alike again, forcefully and abruptly without notice tilted his head straight down to his chest and began working his Razor Comb at the back of his head.

All that could be seen was the razor blades munching into Silvio’s tresses of thick black hair, and small lengths of hair rained down onto his lap. Stroke after stroke of the Razor Comb wasn't really making much of an impact of the mop top until suddenly there was a sudden break for a few seconds before Pap turned to the Crop side and the blades could be seen munching into Silvio’s hair again and now longer strands of black hair rained onto his lap.


(To Be Continued - Parts 15 through 22 will follow soon)