A working class haircut by lovebeingcaped

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Well the scene was this really. I was born in the late 50's, in a small Northern working class town, and I would say that the only haircuts I really had until I went to grammar school (and that is another story) were just like what I am about to describe.
Nearly all the boys I grew up with went to Alf's, for want of his proper name which escapes me. Alf was not a trained barber, learning his trade as an army barber during the time of conscription. I was around 5 years old when I went with my mum for my first 'Alf'!, there were many more to follow. His barbers was the front room of his house, with a wooden chair with arms and a not too large mirror as his cutting area, waiting was on a variety of other chairs or standing. When it was your turn you sat down in the chair (for a while I and other smaller boys were put on a booster, a plank of wood placed over the arms), and Alf caped you up. In the beginning it was an adapted bed sheet, but he soon had a large nylon barbers cape which he would fling round you, the cape almost touching the floor, and tuck it tightly around your neck and then tuck a small towel around the back of your neck.
Now Alf was a big man, taking his manual clippers, he never used anything else as long as I went to him, he would place his left hand on the top of your head, push it forward and begin to cut, more realistically shave, the back of your head up to well over the bone, very high. As haircuts were every 3 to 4 weeks, my hair was never long anyway, but the clippers took everything off down to skin again. He would click click click the back, the clippers occasionally nipping the skin or tugging on the stubble he was removing. When he was satisfied, his attention turned to the sides. He would push your head over to which side he wanted to denude, pull down your ear, and the clippers would then be again taken almost to the crown. leaving nothing in their path, only skin. Both sides were given the same treatment, and when he was finished you were left with just the hairs on the top of your head.
The clippers had done their job, now came the thinning, but Alf never useed scissors, instead he had those hair thinning combs, which he would quite roughly pull through your 'longer' hair until what little was left met with his approval. He would then take a pair of scissors, lop off what was tring to be a fringe, almost to the forehead top, and with a comb, make an attempt to blend the shaved sides to the severely thinned hair on top, but he wasn't that fussy, and before you knew it, a blob of grease was plonked on top of your head, hair parted, and you were done, and it was time for his next massacre.
Alf only knew this haircut and everyone, man and boy came away from his with the same haircut. Upon entering grammar school, my parents were so proud that they stopped enforcing my monthly haircuts from him, and I began to grow my hair, like any good 70's teenager. I have never had short hair since really, nowadays just tidy, but I will never forget 'Alf'. Hope you like the story

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