137. James, Matt and me

CONIL DE LA FRONTERA, CADIZ, SPAIN

Space Rocket for Mr Hop and Cuddly
made many journeys today.
Note new ramp freshly installed.
Three engines means this rocket is quite loud.

Sat through two reluctant online maths lessons with Roman today as on review, he has managed to do the barest minimum. Reward for this was us all (sans Jacqueline and Audrey in Blighty) watching The Grand Tour which I'll admit I'm a sucker for. 

Observed with surprise that James May has had a haircut and also observed that I was possibly as ridiculous and decided to change what was now a thirty year habit.

Roman and I went off* in the Disco to get some more car cleaner, groceries and a haircut for me, armed with the attached snap of Matt Damon for inspiration. Google informed me that the local barber, Caballero Eduardo barbershop reopened at five thirty so at five thirty two we arrived and found, to my relief that it was open, empty and the barber lounging in the chair messaging on his phone.

My hair doppelgänger

I walked in, said Ola, he grunted a reply and went on messaging. No problem, we had plenty of time. After maybe five minutes of standing there I decided for amusement to see just how long he would ignore me. Roman fidgeted a bit, the man kept messaging, Roman inspected everything in the shop which the man appeared not to mind so why should I though I was glad he didn't start or drop any of the big electric clippers. After playing with the hair wash station Roman then settled down first with a National Geographic (impressed with photos of "the girl lion is giving the big lion a piggyback"(nuff said)) then two Spanish Asterix books. Eventually Roman said why isn't he cutting your hair? The chair occupant laughed and said in perfect English I'm not the barber, he has gone out to collect his girls from school and will be back soon. Turned out the chair occupant is from Madrid and he and Roman had a big talk about, well, pretty much everything except the lions and I continued to stand there. Their conversation continued after the barber ran in the door and cut the mans hair, very carefully for about fifteen or twenty minutes with Roman in close attendance, circulating the chair to keep out of the barbers way. They didn't seem to mind so why should I?

When it was my turn I showed him the aforementioned snap and he didn't laugh or recommend a plastic surgeon. Masses of hair, another fifteen or twenty minutes and only ten euros later I emerged, feeling quite Mattish.

*I am now wise in the ways of siesta

Photo added 31 Jan
As requested by Mary & Stuff (Brian)
Note: I said I felt Mattish,
never claimed I looked Mattish!