Stretch. Yawn. Stretch. Shower. Shave. Fresh Fred Perry. Jeans. White socks. The same procedure most mornings. Glenn gets the kettle on and fills the toaster. Then it time to wake up M. It’s Monday and the week starts all over again. A quick breakfast as M is showering and then it’s time for Glenn to leave him to it and open up Suedehead South.

  Glenn set up shop over 25 years ago. He trained as a barber under Rhod. Glen had been a nightmare at school and was told by one of his teachers that army or borstal were his only options for life. A lively skinhead kid who ran amok apart from when he hit the boxing ring. It was his only positive outlet until Rhod handed him a sweeping brush one day. Glenn had been a regur at Rhod The Barbers all his life. Once the skinheads became a thing Rhod took great joy in relieving kids of their hair for a few bob. After getting a particurly short cut Rhod told Glenn to sweep up the mess. That was that. Glenn turned up everyday and before he knew he was cutting hair too.

  Glenn bought the business off Rhod when he retired. The rest is history as they say. Now Glenn had a certain customer and he has had no cause to look back.

  When the shutters go up, the lights go on and the curated pylist is turned up Glenn comes to life. Mondays tend to be a slow day. Most of the guys visit on the weekend. It’s important to look sharp on a Saturday night.

  All is set and Glenn sits in the barbers chair swinging to the sounds of Sham 69. A strong coffee keeps his hands warm as he checks his phone for anyone messaging about a cut.

  Almost immediately the door swings open and a shaggy head teen is blown in.

  “Close that door tight kid. It’s a freezer out there today”.

  No response from the kid. Just an awkward smile.

  “Ok son, get in the chair. I’m sure it’s a cut you came in for” Glenn says giggling to himself.

  The d, probably 16 or so, jumps in the chair and looks straight in the mirror. His hair looks like it hasn’t been cut for a few months. Perhaps a grown out buzzcut Glenn thinks.

  “What we getting son”

  “Ummmm I guess a kinda buzzcut”

  “So a buzzcut. You know what that looks like right. You don’t seem so sure”

  “Yeah I know”

  “How short fel?”

  “Dunno. Short”

  “Careful. Kid. I can go a bit nuts. Why you going short then?”

  “Fed up of it. Looks a mess. Getting made fun of a bit. Y’know banter and that”

  “Yeah? Alright we will go to a 3 all over. I hate doing longer than that. What’s your name kid?”

  “Jones”

  “Never met someone called Jones before. That your first name”

  “That’s what I like being called”

  So with that the clipper attachment is ready, the hum hitting Jones’ head. The kid seemed nervous but the process had begun. Glenn, as usual, took no time in cleaning up a mess and making Jones look presentable.

  Once the stray hairs were brushed away and the neck and sideburns shaved away Glenn took a step back. He held the kids head and forced himself to look at the reflection. Jones gave a wry smile and then checked himself out.

  “So there was a d in there after all huh?”

  Jones knows and quietly said “thank you”

  A quick exit from the chair and a rushed handing over of some notes meant that Jones was heading for the door before Glenn could ask if he was happy. Only when Jones was grabbing his coat did Glenn see the Harrington jacket. A perfect bright red original. Slightly battered but definitely a hand me down. Glenn grinned. “It’s still a thing man”.