My Barber’s Secret Readers of A Little Book of Pleasures will know that my barber owns many dogs, is a photographer, handyman, hunter and raconteur. He also makes walking sticks , carving the handles from wood, horn, bone, antler, in fact from anything that is the right size and shape. Today we were talking about cuckoos and he told me that as well as walking stick handles he whittles wood for bird whistles, different ones to replicate their different calls. One of them, though, was his secret. A cuckoo whistle. He mimed putting it to his mouth and blowing, imitating a cuckoo. “Why is it a secret?” I asked, as I was meant to. “This town,” he tells me, “has a cuckoo club. Every Spring they compete to be the first to hear the cuckoo.” He chuckles. “What they haven’t realized in twenty years,” he continues, “is that they are really competing to be the first one to hear me.” I believed him. As he proceeded to cut my hair I waited for one of his inevitable jokes. This time he took me by surprise. At first I thought he was just acting out an everyday conversation with his wife. It went like this: Wife: If I die first will you remarry? Barber: (scratching his head) Probably, yes. Wife: (disappointed) Oh! Would you give her my car? Barber: I suppose so. Wife: And my jewellery? Barber: Well, it wouldn’t be of much use to me. Wife: (By now quite put out) And would you give her my golf clubs? Barber: Oh no love, she’s left-handed. Amid loud snorting he returned to the serious business of cutting my hair.
Posted on: Thu, 20 Jun 2013 15:28:30 +0000
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