For a long time now we have been visiting a local hairdresser’s in Redruth to get the Proles hair cut.
I am perfectly happy to hack my own hair off but somehow I feel I owe them a bit more than that.

There are generally four or five women in various chairs having a variety of treatments from the women who run the place.
The waiting area is just inside the door and there are four steps up to the salon area where all the action happens.
I stay in the waiting area with a spare Prole while the other takes the long walk past other chairs to the special kid’s high chair.

The remaining Prole automatically goes to the toy drawers and retrieves the same toys they have played with in the salon for the last four years. A broken booster rocket from a toy Space Shuttle, a red car, a non specific villain from what looks like a Japanese cartoon. There may be other toys in the drawer, I have no idea, these are the only ones I have seen.

Prole1 usually goes first.

Prole1: Hello Hairdresser.

Some indulgent smiles from the nearest ladies.

Hairdresser: Hello, Do you need a hand getting up?

Prole1: No, I can…no…I can…let me try that again…I can…hang on…I can…I can…THERE!

I realise I have involuntarily got to my feet to watch.
The Hairdresser smiles at me and turns back.

Hairdresser: Just sit round and look in the mirror so I can get this cover round your shoulders. Just take your glasses off.

Prole1: I look funny! Why do I look funny? What has happened to my eyes?

Everyone looks at Prole1. Everyone seems to turn to look at me. I feel some sort of answer is demanded.

Me: Um, it’s ok, you just have a bit of a squint.

Prole1: Look! They go in different places!

Light laughter and some craning round to see exactly which places his eyes were in.

Hairdresser: We have not seen you for a while, how are you?

Prole1: I have LICE!

There is a group laugh but I am on my feet before the communal stare hits me again.

Me: HAD lice, you Had lice, you do not HAVE lice. He had lice.

Gosh it felt warm in there for January.
The Hairdresser smiles at me again and turns back.

Hairdresser: How do you like it?

Prole1: What?

She runs the comb through his hair and smoothes it down.

Hairdresser: How do you like it?

Prole1: Pardon? What do I like?

Hairdresser: How do you like your hair? Long on top? Short back and sides? Crew cut?

Prole1: I like it without lice. Dad combs it a lot but some times they slip through and lay eggs that are called nits. Dad? DAD? WHY DON”T THEY JUST CALL ‘NITS’ ‘LOUSE EGGS’?

Prole1 and the Hairdresser are looking at me expectantly. The salon is quiet.

Me: Oh, you know, they just do. Don’t. You know.

Neither of them smile, they both turn back to the mirror.

Prole1: Hmmm. Can you cut it short over my ears please?

Hairdresser: I’d love to.

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