One of the things I love about living in south London is that I am living in a multi-ethnic, multicultural community. The other day, for example, I decided I needed a haircut – my hair was getting quite long and matted. Remarkably for a place as small as Charlton, I had a choice of two places: Trims, where me and Lyn usually go, is a unisex salon run my a nice old lady. The other place, just up the road, is more of a barbers. First I went to trims, but the woman was busy and told me to come back later. I was about to go home, but then I decided to give the other place a try.

This turned out to be run by Turkish gentlemen. Now, at this point I should point out that I no longer have any grievances with the Turks, despite their continued occupation of northern Cyprus. As a kid, I used to listen to my Greek grandfather far too keenly. Anyway, putting politics aside, I rolled in. it was a cross between a conventional British barbershop and a Turkish or Arabic barbers: I was fascinated to see a man being shaved, not with a normal razor but with an old cut-throat razor. I thought those things had been made illegal, and I’d never seen it before. It was like going back in time, or to another place. it felt like something you see on Michael Palin programmes After the shave was over, the gentleman was given a hot towel to put on his face.

Soon it was my turn. Of course, I only needed a haircut – there was no way anyone was coming anywhere near my face with that razor. The haircut I got was efficient, but a bit too short for my liking: I don’t think they get many guys with CP in there, and, as usual, my head kept shaking. Nevertheless, I was still fascinated, as I’d never seen anyone get a shave like that before. but that could just be me being a bit of a yokel. I never saw such things in Cheshire, and it all still feels exotic.