Hair today

At breakfast a couple of weeks ago—toast very sparingly spread with Patum Peperium (The Gentleman’s Relish), if you must know—I was glancing through the pictures in the paper (too early for the effort of reading) when I noticed something which had not struck me before: nowadays, men do not part their hair. I realised that even my elderly friends have dispensed with their traditional parting (except, that is, for the many who settled years ago for the Erich von Stroheim look).

So I discussed this with my stylist (Wendy at Annabelle’s, 10% discount for pensioners on Wednesdays) and we agreed to just comb it straight back.

It didn’t work. At first my hair just stuck up so that I looked like a mad professor, then gradually it began to part itself again, whatever I did. What I have marked here is not a bald patch (I do have one, but not that shape and not in that spot), but the parting beginning to re-establish itself. In a week or two it will once again look much as it has done since my mother first parted it, round about the time of the Munich crisis. I suppose that's something to be thankful for, really.

Isn’t that interesting? No? All right, then: next week, some pictures of my elbows, which.... no, perhaps I won’t bother.