Gone.

The deed has been done.

I always said, once I woke up and found hair on my pillow, I would shave it off.

Well, each day that has gone past since the beginning of the week the hair has loosened. The last few days, a few strands have come out if gently pulled and after each bath, a little more hair was left behind each time the water drained away.

This morning, there were a few strands on the pillow and after my bath, there were quite a few more left after the water drained away.

This morning, I pulled a tuft out. Not a few strands. Quite a lot more than a few. A small tuft.

If you remember I said I was going into town today. I met up with Drummond. He had a hangover and he needed a 'hair' of the dog at lunch time...I showed him a pulled-out tuft and he freaked a little. 'No need for Ollie the Hair', he said 'I have clippers at my house'.

I freaked at this point.

I know I have always said I'd do it when the time came, but the time has come and I can't say I was relishing the prospect.

So we went back to his house, went up to the roof garden and looked over to Hackney and Dalston to the east, Old Street to the South and the city Gherkin to the south west. The sun was shining, the Sex Pistols were on the Ipod and the clippers came out.

I did whinge a little. But only because Drummond was being a completely unempathetic bastard. 'Come on for fuck's sake, just do it'. No time for debating the finer points of the importance of both hair and the loss of it; no time for a philospohical discussion on the loss of self and no time for procrastination.

He took the clippers and just shaved the middle section of the hair out.

On his own head.

Nutter. Fucking nutter.

'Now you have to do it, because look what I have done'.

Fuck head. Complete fuck head.

Well, what can you say or do to that?

He took those clippers and he shaved my head. He seemed to think it was a #3. I have no experience of shaving heads. It could have been a #3, it could have been a #1. I have no idea. A nice cabbie later told me, on the way to the station homewards, 'that's a #1 you got there love...I should know, look at mine'. And behold, the cabbie had hair as shaved, shorn and short as my own. Nice one, Drummond.

I then shaved his hair off.

Shave-mates. Bald twins.

And so we sat on his roof garden, watching aeroplanes and helicopters above, listening to the odd police car siren in Hoxton and Hackney and sang along to Anarchy in the UK. All the time running our hands over our shaved heads.

I sent out a mass text to all those I know and love: "The head is shaved. And that is all I have to say on the matter".

Of course, people texted back 'What does it look like?".

"I don't know" I texted, "I haven't looked in a mirror".

'Oh' said one friend when I told her Drummond, the fuckhead, had shaved his too 'it's just like Samantha and Smith in Sex and the City".

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-UCQJiZNpg

Obviously, I have looked at it now. I have a shaved head. I look like Demi Moore in 'GI Jane'; Natalie Portman in 'V for Vendetta' and Britney Spears in real life...

...Drummond doesn't look like any of these women (although he does look a little like Smith). But he is sure as shit as mad as Britney was when she shaved her head. Fucking nutter.

And that is all I have to say on the matter.

"The big advantage of being bald is you can style your hair with a damp cloth..." Anonymous