When I was fourteen I gave myself a haircut. I was way grunge dude. I thought that because I shopped at Vinnies and wore purple Doc boots to school, I had a license to also cut my own hair and assume I could pull it off and maybe get the thumbs up from my peeps. Needless to say I looked hideous. My mum yelped when she saw me. I pretended I was above it but secretly counted the weeks until I could pull the grotesque strands in to a pony tail at the very least. It was the year that “Kurt Died Man…” so there were lots of random home-made haircutting scenarios going on the time at Penners High. I didn’t stick out too much. In fact I continued my vocational calling by using my younger cousin as a guinea pig. Natalie was willing if a little stupid to leave her beautiful chestnut brown hair to my grungy aspirations. She came out looking worse than even I imagined. There were massive chunks of locks missing throughout random parts of her skull. When she left home after the weekend and my aunt Wiesia witnessed the horror chop, Nat was immediately taken to an expensive hairdresser in the inner West to deal with the damage. She survived, only just, with a bob.
Some sixteen years later my itchy scissor hands have been put to work again. On my kid. Despite being older I am not the wiser in this particular area of expertise. Kazek has come out time and again with massive hair chunks missing from random parts of his skull. One particular attempt left him looking like a lab experiment. Michal after various butcherings could watch no longer and has officially deprived me of the scissors by taking over the intern hairdresser role. I sheepishly admit that he does an awesome job. A subtle mixture of way-cute and yet-tidy.
p.s. it’s – 20 today in Krakow and the water pipes in the upstairs bathroom have frozen, meaning there is no running water in the sink, nor the shower nor the bathtub. But you will all be pleased to know, that for some weird plumbing miracle, we have water in the bidet!!!