Tales from the Brothers Grim and Grimmer - Cut and Blow

Dear Simon,

following on from 'Shopping Trips' with 'Glass Half Empty', the spotlight changes to 'Visits to the Hairdressers' and 'Glass Half Full' - again a weekly event and in its own way, equally as entertaining.

Cut and Blow

These visits alternate between what is termed a 'Shampoo and Set', and a procedure going under the title of 'Cut and Blow'. For all the male readers it is important to point out that, 'Cut and Blow' isn't what you think it is and for all the female readers I'm afraid this only confirms the suspicions you had about exactly how the male mind works.

A little added colour

Perhaps before describing our trips, a full pen portrait of 'Glass half Full' might be interesting given she's had a colourful life more than adequately reflected in her equally colourful use of the English language. She's due to celebrate her 95th birthday this year and is looking forward to being included on the next Ordinance and Survey map as a 'Place of Great Historical Interest'.

Unfortunately, the ultimate accolade of a 'Place of Outstanding Beauty', may well have eluded her on the basis that:

a) it would push the bounds of credibility to its limit; and
b) it would also contravene several clauses of the Trades Description Act.

A lady of substance

In her former years, 'Glass Half Full' was what could be termed 'a large woman' - with her friend, Glynis, the two could well have solved England's front row problems in their quest for a Six Nations Championship and Grand Slam glory.  A recent weight loss, however, coupled with a debilitating dodgy knee has put paid to any ambitions in this field.

'Glass Half Empty' was born in Birstall.  For those unfamiliar with the geography of the West Riding of Yorkshire, if you can conjure up an image of Arthur Scargill, the late lamented NUM President, then Birstall is situated in an area where one would normally stick the enema.

You're in the army now

Unfortunately 'Glass Half Full' did not have a happy upbringing and left home, age eighteen, to join the Army, which she has since described as being her true family providing her with many lifelong friends and experiences. She saw active service during the Second World War as a radar operative attached to the anti aircraft guns in Northern England, seeing off Goering's Luftwaffe and forcing Hitler to abandon 'Operation Sealion' (the invasion of the UK) and opt instead for 'Operation Barbarrossa' (the invasion of Soviet Russia). This proved to be a poor career move on Hitler's behalf, as boasts of a Thousand Year Reich were prematurely crushed on 30th April 1945 in a bunker below The Reich Chancellery in Berlin.

Not content with 'Hitler - My part in his Downfall' our dear lady transferred after the war to the Whitecaps (the Military Police) and went over to Germany to serve in the War Crimes Tribunals, guarding suspected female Nazi War criminals and renewing her ongoing differences of opinion with Herman Goering. After losing this second  fight in the courtroom, Goering decided to grasp the poisoned chalice, make it a decisive 'three out of three' and promptly swallowed a cyanide capsule in his prison cell. As all this goes to show - it does not pay to cross a Yorkshire lass - especially one who hails from Birstall ...

Gloucester calls

After returning to the UK 'Glass Half Full' eventually settled down in Gloucester and it was here we first met her when we moved house from Brighouse in West Yorkshire (not far from her own place of birth) with three small children in tow. She was the first to greet us as the removal van disappeared down the street, introducing herself by thrusting a Tupperware container of bacon, sausage and eggs into my hand (as clearly I looked like a lad who needed a decent fry up first thing in the morning) and inviting us all around to her house for lunch the following day.

As the years have rolled by we've been able to reciprocate and she now comes round here for a good natter, put the world to rights and make a valiant attempt to empty the brandy bottle of its contents.

The main event

But we digress - the main event of the week is the trip to the hairdressers and this normally starts a good hour before her appointment. This makes allowance for 'Glass Half Full' getting installed on the sofa, recounting any past or current experiences, (most of which we now know by heart) and get her teeth around a sandwich or two.

Talking of teeth, there were until recently only two, now replaced with a new gleaming set of falsies. Unfortunately the top set has recently gone AWOL and is currently 'missing presumed lost in action', after straying into the landfill site that passes muster as her front room. Despite this she can still wreak havoc with anything edible that's placed within arms length, as we know from previous experience of inviting her round for Xmas lunch.

Getting up from the sofa to set off for the hairdressers is the next step and if it was put to music, could well be the next winner of 'Britain's got Talent'. It starts with a rocking motion back and forth on the sofa like the build up of a tsunami, until sufficient momentum is gained to propel 'Glass Half Full' onto her feet. With the final lunge, both feet are planted on the floor, leaving the body horizontal to the ground with both arms pointed backwards like Eddie the Eagle launching himself from the end of a ski jump in the Olympics.

Once upright she's then pointed in the direction of the car and like a large seagoing vessel guided by a tugboat, is finally installed safely into the passenger seat. All that remains is to strap her securely in place to prevent any movement during shipment and cast off for the hairdressers.

The goods are unloaded
 
Parking at said hairdressers has recently been assisted by a friendly local traffic warden who has taken to treating us like a commercial vehicle  in the throes of loading and unloading goods, thus allowing us to park on the pavement outside the shop, before delivering our cargo inside. From there it's but a short distance to the door, which is just as well as I normally end up having to carry her handbag. This, I can assure you, does little for your street cred, especially in a passionate rugby playing city like Gloucester where such things are regarded with deep suspicion, so the shorter the journey the better.

Once inside, responsibility is passed over to the girls and after getting a signed receipt confirming safe delivery the next hour is mine to do whatever I wish. I have never found out what is discussed whilst in the hairdressers' chair, as these secrets are guarded as zealously as anything that is revealed in a Catholic confessional box. All I can say, is that there is always a lot of giggling going on which ceases once I open the door. Never the less, I did I receive a very nice Xmas card, signed by them all last year, so hopefully this means I have been accepted as part of the weekly ritual.

After payment is sorted out, negotiations are opened regarding the date and time of the next appointment, followed by the weekly search of the handbag for the house keys. With 'Glass Half Full', re-tethered safely in the car and the windows open to dispel the fumes from the hairspray, it's homeward bound until next week. All that remains is to get the front door open, install her on the sofa and a quick peck on the cheek, before returning home.

Yours as ever,

Bruce