Oh the curses I live with, pale skin, the inability to get a tan! freckles and curly locks of ginger hair, when it comes to the genetic lottery I've all but lost. From birth until the age of 16 I never combed nor brushed my hair, not quite full enough to be a fro it was just a mess. A week with my dutch grandfather changed all that. Brylcream and a pocket comb were Sunday mornings weapons of choice, an ironed shirt and the pre-church lesson that has stuck with me until this day. How a man should wear his hair. Now that I'm older that lesson has become all but instinctual. Though to contend with the curls I've adapted the vintage Micheal Caine.
No comments:
Post a Comment