Rob: I was thinking, I had hair like that in the 70s! Then again, I still do... it's just a little whiter now, and I have a more pronounced forehead...
Mike.
Shows you how mistaken one can be judging from appearances: I had imagined, from the avatar image, that you were the
newer life form represented; this fresh information puts an entirely new face to proceedings! What it means, then, is that you are in the same band as Ray and, now, myself. Spritual, in a way; mystical and with that certain je ne sais quoi that we, of a certain season, find irresistible.
I use to keep it long from the time of the Beatles, but it didn't really seem to grow that spectacularly - I blame the machinations of Fusco, Glasgow's top cutter for gents, in my previous incarnation as a Tony Curtis/Dean Martin clone - all that hot air and chemical whatever mixed with blatant offers of 'something for the weekend, sir? to a youngster who could barely afford the haircut, never mind the rubbery goodies on offer! (I see they are now part of a current takeover bid on the markets.) Anyway, early tribulations aside, my wife used to cut my hair from the 60s until she died and I just can't face the emotional/stylistic alternative of an impersonal cutter again, so I now sport a ponytail as a perfect way of avoiding the situation.
Actually, I can play The Killer's Thirty-nine and Holding without any sense of shame whatsoever: it really represents a positive take on life; a refusal to cut one's own throat (or hair) because the numbers don't stack up as others might think that they should.
Keepa the faith, as Mr Fusco might have said, though being a modern jazz fanatic (he, not I), I'm not so sure about that.
Rob C
