In the belly of the beast
This past Friday, me and Mrs. Angus stopped off on our way home from work to get haircuts (yes we have the same stylist!!). I went first, then waited for Mrs. A while playing a game on my phone. About halfway through Mrs. A's cut a woman with 4 young children came in. The kids starting running up and down the salon, the woman hugged our stylist and said she was here to commemorate the 8th anniversary of our stylist first cutting her hair. The other stylist in the shop (who was processing an impressive assembly line of elderly ladies from shampoo to cut to baking in curlers to getting their "up do") started erecting a barrier of japanese style screens between her work station and the family. As the kids kept running around the woman kept yakking to our stylist while Mrs. A sat bemusedly in the chair. The woman gave our stylist homemade anniversary cookies and seemed completely oblivious to the fact that the other stylist was barricading herself in like a French CEO.
After what seemed like forever, the woman herded up the kids and left. And our stylist gave us the dish. She claimed she hadn't cut the woman's hair for over two years but that every good Friday the woman shows up with hugs and cookies and more kids and imagined stories about her time in the salon! The other stylist piped up from behind the wall of screens that "someone should get their tubes tied" (I'm pretty sure she didn't mean me).
So, after pencilling in good Friday 2010 as a firm haircut appointment with our stylist, we checked to see if the coast was clear and went home.