I booked an appointment at the barber this morning. First time in a very long while I've done that.
Normally it's a whim. I catch sight of myself, decide the hair has got away from me, and turn up hoping there's a chair free. Today I picked a time and put it in a calendar like a man with a diary.
Sitting there, I worked out why I like it as much as I do, and it has very little to do with the haircut.
The hot towel. The head massage, which I would never have thought to ask for. Wax on the ears and the nose, and all the stray hair you had stopped noticing and had absolutely still been noticing. The hardest question anyone puts to you in there is how much off the top.
It is a quiet exchange. A bit of chit chat, mostly not. Same barber most times, one of the others when he is busy, and none of them need anything from me.
You walk out and a few years have come off with the hair.
People call it therapy. I think it is the opposite of therapy, and that is exactly why it works. Therapy asks you to talk.