The joy of hair...

A lot has happened since the last time I had my hair cut and the barber told me I should be glad it still grew at a prodigious rate of knots. He had a point,most people I know of a similar age have rapidly receding hairlines or have long since joined the shiny head brigade. Not so yours truly who has  a good head of hair. True it's always been an unruly mop which I have long since given up trying to manage, but at least it keeps my head warm during the winter months.
     I'm guessing it must be something like ten to twelve weeks now since that last hair cut. Since then I along with the rest of the world have been self isolating away from the Corona Virus. For me self isolation started on the first of March, it's the 5th of May today so that's sixty six days ago. Or thirty two if you're the average Tipping Point contestant. The point is things are starting to get a bit long and one is starting to get a little concerned. I really don't want to be that guy, you know the one who's fifty trying to look twenty and trendy with long hair (pony tail optional) and an annoying penchant for words such as awesome and wicked.
     There's no chance of me coming out with the latter, but the long hair could be a worrying development unless drastic action is taken. She who must be obeyed has already offered to cut it, but I respectfully declined having seen what she can do to a rose bush with a set of secateurs. No matter what happens  there is absolutely no danger of me being seen with a pony tail. My grandfather quite succinctly summed this subject up with one of those little gems of wisdom he used to impart from time to time. This happened when a door to door salesman unsuccessfully tried to sell him double glazing back in the early 70's.
     "I knew he were an arsehole as soon as I saw the pony tail," he announced as he closed the front door.
     "How?" I asked in my youth full innocence.
     "Listen son what does every pony have under it's tail?"
     "I'm not sure," I stammered. I was only about ten at the time and wasn't quite sure what I could and couldn't say without getting a thick ear.
     "An arsehole lad, that's what every pony has under its tail."
Looking back now with forty odd years of hindsight there was probably never a truer word said. If you are a little skeptical just take a minute and think of those males who have graced the silver screen sporting such an abomination and tell me I'm wrong. Anyway I digress, the only pony tails around here will be on the the two Shetlands in the field out the back.
     We haven't reached the full blown Yeti stage yet though, although when we do the coloring will be such it will fit in perfectly with a Himalayan environment. If only we lived in the Himalayas. I guess you could say I'm in the Neil Young phase at the moment, and by that I mean present day Neil Young. In fact having just watched one of Neil's video's I've come to the conclusion we must share the same Turkish barber on Shildon High Street.
     One things for sure, being the proud possessor of a letter from NHS England telling me I have to stay inside until at least the middle of July I'm going to have to think of something. I don't know why but I couldn't help but notice a forlorn looking rose bush out of the back window...