Shave the head!!!!

After two months in India my hair had faded to its usual green and it had grown long enough to get into my eyes again. 

Sun salutations now involved extra breathes to blow hair out of my mouth, morning bed head had returned, swimming involved shampoo and conditioner and all the reasons I had wanted to shave my head returned.

In the UK I love my long hair. 

Bright blue vibrant hair blows in the breeze as I walk.

With a single hair pin or a pencil I can pile it up onto my head out of the way, I can plait it, ribbon it, I had dreads and beads and it was fabulous at festivals when I told my stories.

Many people in town only knew me as the Blue Haired Lady.

But in India it was hot! 

If I tied it up it was like wearing a hat, if I braided it it was like wearing a scarf, swimming every day was a nightmare, the sun bleached the colour and no one ever saw my wonderful dreads as it was constantly in a tight bun at the top of my head which got in the way for yoga!

When Mr P joined me for the first two months in India he brought with him, his beard clippers.

When I had informed him I planned to cut all my hair off in Singapore he had been unsure. Over ten years we had been together, ten years of long hair, four years of bright blue long hair.

Once he arrived and saw I still had hair to my shoulders he had been relieved but now as I moaned each day about my hair his patience gave way.

“OK I'll cut it!” he announced a few days before he headed back to the UK for a month.

“Cool!!”

I had the clippers, chair and bucket on the balcony within moments before either of us could change our minds.

“You sure?” he asked one more time clippers poised for the first trim.

“Sure!”

The clippers whirred into life.

With the waste basket a quarter full with the results of the first initial cut, Mr P went in for the second cut!

He held the clippers at the base of my neck and arched them up into my hair.

“OH!!!”

.... was all he said as the first of the hair hit the floor. 

“Didn't mean it to be that short!”

I couldn't see a thing so was unworried,

“No Problem,” I reassured him “It will be fine!”

The clippers buzzed into life once more as what was left of my blue hair fell to the floor or the bucket.

Mr P is a man of many talents. With two boys in the house haircuts have always been done at home, his own curly shoulder length hair is cut once a year by me by piling it up into a pony tail and then cutting said ponytail off!!

I trusted Mr P and no matter what it looked like when he finished I could always got to the barber and shave it off after he left!!

As the last of the hair sprinkled to the floor he turned the clippers off. 

“OK go and have a shower.” 

I gave him a quick trim, swept the balcony, emptied the bucket into the burning pit and headed to the bathroom which is the only room containing a mirror.

It looked amazing!!!!!

I kept running my hands over the back of my head to make sure it was all gone.

It felt so soft! 

Showering was bliss. 

I could feel water on my neck. 

Shampoo was now obsolete as was conditioner. 

Drying took moments and the coolness as I emerged back onto the balcony was breathtaking!

Liberating isn't the word!! 

All my life I have loved having long hair. I had envisioned growing old and grey (or pink or blue) with long plaits and red ribbons. 

Until I made the choice to come and live in India the thought of short hair had never crossed my mind.

Mr P just looked crestfallen. 

“You'll grow it back wont you,” was all he said as he packed the clippers away. 

“I wasn't keen on the blue,” he confessed “but I love you with long hair.”

I was still on the high of liberation to answer. 

I had cut his hair shorter in return but I am no hairdresser, cutting a pony tail off once a year is one thing, raising curly hair off the shoulders is another. 

The result was more of a Beatle look than a real haircut!!

In desperation he headed to the barber where for 300 rupees he had an amazing short haircut and a shave!

Each day I swam, did yoga, rode the bike and kept running a hand over my head to remind myself it was all gone. 

People I had met didn't notice at first as from the front it just looked like my hair was tied back but when I turned my head the gasps of surprise were amusing.

Mr P departed for the UK to check on the children before heading to Thailand with the 'boys' while I embraced in my new look. 

Would I grow it back?

Laziness said I would, as going to hairdressers and such was never in my time scale but Mr P had cut this and Mr P could cut it again. 

But did Mr P want to cut it again?

Catriona by now had rented a beautiful place in a quiet side street. 

Steve was awaiting Emma and a group of friends from the UK and as they began to arrive I passed responsibility of the garden to them and moved back to Steve's flat in Borneo Muuk.

“The rent is paid on the flat until the end of February”, he informed me, “Emma and I will stay here (South Cliff) so enjoy the freedom.”

I packed the sewing machine and my belongings and asked Sandheev to drive them over to the flat while I rode the bike.

Having the place to myself was bliss.

Each day after I had swept the flat I went for a swim.

I bought a cotton sari , modifying it in my usual way,

still loving the new hair.

I went to the temple for puja

and I acquired some fabric from the tailor next door to Ballu's shop to make a hand puppet for a child I knew. 

Tailor Man offered me a never ending pile of the stuff as he normally needed to hire a boy to take it away and burn it!!

Burn it!!!!

Without the garden to look after or a Peter to hang out with or even any hair that needed my attention, I now had loads of time on my hands …

.....as I looked at the left over scraps a new project idea entered my head …

.

... Burn it indeed!!!!






PS.....

The question of whether Mr P would cut my hair again was answered when he returned to India in February 2019 without the beard clippers!!

My hair had grown about two inches, still short enough to be really short but bed head was now apparent. Teeth brushing, wash face finished off with a wet flannel over head to dampen the sticky up hair into place, was now my morning ritual.

One morning as I stooped to pick up coconuts I realised my hair was long enough to fall forward!!! A haircut was needed but how did I broach the subject with Mr P?

He took it very well and on the way back from town, we stopped in at the barbers where I had a haircut and a facial while he had a shave all for 500 rupees!

My hair is now 1cm long, 2cm on the top. When I eventually return to the UK in a few months it will grow but when I return to India in October ….... I will be back to the barbers.

At these prices I can have a facial and a haircut every week!!