I need a haircut.
For ages I was too lazy to get my hair trimmed and then Katy said she liked my hair with a bit more length on it so I decided to deliberately let it grow. After all, my fringe is gradually getting wispier and wispier so I figured if I'm going to grow my hair I'd best do it now while I still have a fringe.
So now my hair reaches down to my collar and I'm entering that tricky zone where I'm in danger of developing a mullet. But despite its new length my hairstyle is still dictated by two main factors:
1) How badly it got messed up by being crushed between my skull and my pillow during the course of the previous night.
2) Which direction the wind is blowing.
Although this means my hair is often a total mess some people have actually told me they like the new look. Of course they may just have been taking the piss.
Still, I never usually get complimented on my hair. And my flowing locks have been much better received than my attempt at growing a goatee back in the 90s.
So on a good day I kid myself that I've cultivated a Persuaders-era Roger Moore look. And on the days when I'm being honest I think I look like Graeme Garden in his Goodies heyday.
Katy still thinks my hair looks better with a bit of length to it and she enjoys laughing at the way my sideburns have turned ginger but she's started dropping hints that she plans to give me a haircut. Little things like waving around a pair of scissors. Buying a cut-throat razor. And watching DVDs of Sweeney Todd.
At least I hope it's a haircut she's planning.