haircut anyone????

How can we save money, let me tell you........

There was no doubt about it, I did not have what could be called a luxurious childhood. Silver and spoon were not a vocal combination that was evident in our house, more a case of shovel and coal. Our mum was always looking for ways of saving money. I think part of this came from the time spent in the ration years, but this was 1965 and we had no war and no rationing. We used to have scrambled eggs watered down with milk, ate sheeps neck and scrag end (whatever that is), and buy broken biscuits from Redman’s grocers.

Dad worked moving furniture, one benefit was that quite often the people being moved used to leave unwanted stuff behind and dad and his helpers were given the opportunity to keep them it if they wanted. We used to get everything from furniture, old toys to pots and pans. One fateful day dad brought home a pair of hand operated hair cutting shears. “nathen” he said “use these on’t twins” The things looked like something out of an Australian sheep shearers backpack. A big, hand operated stainless steel implement. The gleam in the eyes of mum was one of realisation that she could save money. Our haircuts cost 6d every six weeks or so, from the barbers across the road. Not a huge amount would be saved and I still don’t believe that the saving was needed, but the old saving bug had kicked in.

arghhhhh

The look in mums eyes if we ever saw a dead rabbit at the roadside gave away that she wanted to stop and pick it up (we never did). We did hit a rabbit once, and we did stop and pick it up, dining on rabbit is great, I still like the flavour, but when the bones have been shattered and are in every bite, why not spend the 2s-6d and buy one! But dead wildlife aside, we had the opportunity to save 1s every six weeks, carry on with the haircuts.

The haircut operation had to be carried under the guidance of Kevin, one of our older brothers. Mum always held Kevin up to the rest of us as the brains of the family, being the only one of us who had been to grammar school, and now working as a chemist in a plastics firm he was the Stephen Hawkins of the Kirkham’s in mum’s eyes.  

not happy

 



What semester of chemical engineering covered haircutting I have no idea, but one evening we were told by mum that she and Kevin would cut our hair. A chair was brought out from the living room and placed in the kitchen. Now Kevin had, and still has, shaky hands, dad had hands that could shake a cocktail without trying, and Kevin was following suit. These are not the strengths of a god haircutter. Denis went first as the oldest, and mum and Kevin set about him. The shears were old, not sharp in the slightest and ripped more hairs out than they cut. As they were squeezed and released to operate them they made a clacking sound. The haircut was awful, a very basic ‘bowl’ cut. Knowing as I did that mine would be the very same, “twins have to be the same” heaven forbid that we would look different, I said nothing. Denis was in tears and I was nervously watching, knowing that my turn was next. It must be easier waiting for your turn on the gallows. Inevitably I was told to “sit down” and “sit still” I was sat down and a towel put around my neck, good for catching dripping blood or hair. 

"the hard bit, the back"



Mum started, squeezing the clippers furiously, moving faster than the shears clacked the pain was excruciating as at least half the hairs were pulled out and not ‘sheared’. Kevin did what he did best, told us to sit still and waited for his turn with the cutters, which mum gave him for the ‘important bit, the back of the head’. He took over and immediately told me that it was “my fault” because “he moved” To this day I know that I did not move, but I also knew even at my young age that if anything was done wrong, Kevin would blame me, and mum would believe him. He called mum over and said, “well! I have no choice, he moved and look what happened, I will just have to make it all the same, it’ll look stupid though, but it’s his fault, he moved”

Mum slapped me for moving, Kevin approached again with his shaking hands holding the clickety clacking shears to cut more hair, and Denis resisted the urge to laugh. To say I looked stupid was an understatement, mum made a special effort to find a mirror to show me what happens when I can’t sit still, the cut was awful, the hair ended half way up my head, with bare skin underneath. As if we didn’t have enough people making fun at us because we were twins, now I had this! Luckily hair grows, the shears were never tried again, but only because “because they can’t sit still”.



not my fault!!!



Denis and I still went across the road for a haircut We always had the same cut no matter what we asked for because mum told the barber what to do before we got there, Kevin decided that being a barber was not for him, I looked more stupid than ever, and mum had saved at least 1s. The shears disappeared somewhere; I have no idea where they went, if the person who got rid of them reads this, thankyou!