I can't help but laugh

Well, my day is done, all tasks complete but not without the usual hairdresser mishap. Why can I never go to that place without there being some minor 'carry on'. As it is I avoid all and any attempts to persuade me there until it really has to be done and still something, albeit minor, always happens.

In the past it has been arguing staff allowing their personal affairs to spill over into the public domain, on another occasion a young female stylist received a text message from her boyfriend 'ditching' her rather unkindly that resulted in tears and tantrums in the salon, I have had a cup of coffee poured over my foot when it's server tripped and I have had my hair emit smoke. You might wonder why I still patronize this establishment, well aside from these few minor mishaps it is the best in town at what it is supposed to do, the business of haircutting, and I'm kinda getting to be amused by the minutiae of life that I see there for the half an hour I visit now and again.

Today's mishap? Nothing catastrophic, just amusing. I was taken to the dreaded backwash by a new and very young apprentice, desperate to do everything right, as ever I asked her to only wash once and no conditioner for fear of acquiring a permanent neck injury and off she set. All was well, she was a little light of touch but hey, she was new and nervous and then it all went horribly wrong. Rinse time....she dropped the shower head, on my head, in her panic at retrieving it she dropped it again and this time it did that thing showers 'do' of twisting itself around and sending a shower of water over my face. By now I was laughing out loud, she tried again in panic to rescue the offending implement but in her efforts managed to shower me from chest to knees! The poor girl could easily have died, I tried my best, I honestly did, to assure her no harm was done but I just couldn't help laughing almost hysterically at the look on her managers face and the whole awful-ness of it all to her, new in a business where customer service is considered all. My heart bled for her really..... but still I laughed!

So having completed the hairdressing task I set off on foot newly washed cut and straightened for the police station....in the pouring rain, with no umbrella. By the time I arrived I was favouring a drowned rat but in I went and was immediately ushered away. Apparently in this 'we have to prove guilt' environment it has to be assured that I could not have spoken to anyone else whilst I waited and therefore perverted the course of justice or some such. So I waited, with my minder, a P.C. who seemed thoroughly bored by the proceedings and sat in this little room with me without uttering a sound.

Luckily I had only to wait a few minutes before I was collected. Identity parades are certainly not what they used to be. To cut a long and video taped story short I was required to watch a video of nine images, twice, and when asked offer my identification if I could.

Any worry that I had quietly harboured about letting the whole system down by not being able to identify the suspect very rapidly disappeared, the moment I saw his unpleasant face I knew beyond any doubt.

And that was it, job done, a few signatures and warnings about not discussing it with a colleague who is also to go through this process and I was out on the street again, in the rain, with my already catastrophically wet new hair 'do' only slipping further into the abyss of bad hair days!

I can't help but laugh.....£30 to look like a drowned rat, tsk! :o)