A wonderful wet shave at one of the many barbers in town, an added bonus being that it was conducted in absolute silence. Unusual in Blighty, unheard of in Italy. I just lay there and gazed wistfully at the plural posters on the wall featuring smouldering, bare-chested young Italian men. You really must pop over Camilla.
8 comments:
Ooh I can just smell the scents of soothing unguents,the quiet snip, snip of those long-bladed scissors slicing through all that Brylcreem.
Does it say Durexio Gossameri on the mirror? We don't have silence down at The Grooming Room where I go every other day, mainly because I'm always trying to lever-out what pubs the simply gorgeous pouting girls frequent.
A shave by jove! Always wanted to be shaved by a professional (as opposed to an amateur, if you see what I mean) and once spent a fortune at Trumpers in Curzon Strteet. Far too poncey and not very close, unlike the shaves delivered pre-war at 'The Nest' barbers shop in Rottingdean where my dear old dad-in-law was lather boy. They gave the locals (who only came in once a week) a shave that was 'three days under the skin' thus propelling them stubble-free until wednesday - shaving being a sunday morning routine. I guess rather like this charming Italian example any barber worth his salt in any village could set-to with a cuthroat razor with varying degrees of success. Aforementioned dad-in-law had to go and shave a corpse once, but that's another story.
I sense an air of homo-eroticism creeping into some of your friends' blogs, Mr Combo. First Mr F-A, then Mr Inch-Wheels and Mr Savage, and now you: all seemingly obsessed with barbers and the mysteries of strop-and-lather. Goodness only knows what Mr Ashley will come up with. Thank heavens we girls can rely upon red-blooded Mr Diplomat. I don't expect he cuts his hair at all....perhaps rips it out by the manly handful.
When I researched my book 'Open for Business'I talked to a man from Trumpers who told me that novice hairdressers in that establishment once did a five year apprenticeship, and that for the first three they practised shaving on an old pig's bladder.
Did they sit on the bladder or stand on it?
Thanks for reminding me. Nearly due another visit to the lovely Holly at Yan's. Just got to rummage through all the pockets of old pairs of jeans, peak down the back of the sofa, and check uder the car seats for the neccesary thirty quid.
Holly eh? Is that the girl you won't give me the number of? Perhaps you could bring her over in the Jeep, dressed-up as a Land Army girl.
I haven't any hair left I'm afraid Camilla. I am pleased to note Ron is getting his chest shaved in preperation for his role in "Ex-pat Ron Does Naples"
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