HERE is another episode of bald man at the hairdressers, along with other post-lockdown thoughts (are we really now ‘post’; who knows?).

Although sparsely distributed, my hair where it grows is thick, dark and now grey at the wings. I know, bald, thick, dark and grey – what a winner in the hair lottery. Although I could buy a razor, I enjoy the visits to the local hairdresser, and managed to bag an 8am slot earlier. This was much needed as the thick, dark and grey bits were shooting out all over the place, and the bald pate bore a thin but rising frizz that blew around like grass in the wind. A facemask was required and on entering the newly arranged hairdressers, my hair was washed, which doesn’t usually happen. Then I was shown to the chair, where skilled use of the razors – a number two and a number one grade – removed the mad professor hair. It all took perhaps ten minutes and cost £11. Never has so much attention been lavished on such a small amount of hair. Afterwards I went for a run and swear I went faster without that unruly weight of hair at the sides and back.

Now to the pub…

At our local bar on Sunday, we were greeted at the door and shown to a table for two. Drinks were ordered, a white wine for my wife and an accidental half for me (rectified later with a full pint: Northern Monk’s Faith, a hazy pale ale and a favourite beer). The bar was well ordered, pleasantly full but not rammed, and the experience was enjoyable, if a little odd. The bar staff were still getting used to the new ways, and some customers ignored the rule about not standing at the bar. As required, we gave our contact details for tracing purposes. Three pubs, including one in West Yorkshire, that opened at the weekend have now shut, after drinkers tested positive for the virus. So this new normal isn’t all that normal yet.

The F*uck Boris loaf…

Here’s another post-lockdown story, a favourite as it concerns good bread and a provoked baker. Phil Clayton is the baker behind the Haxby Bakehouse and highly regarded in York. Phil is also a Labour supporter and not at all a fan of the government or Boris Johnson. So unenamoured of Johnson is Phil that he produced a fine sourdough bearing the floured letters “F*ck Boris”. Imagine Phil’s disdain then when he discovered last weekend that a photograph of him at his bakery had been used in a government campaign without his knowledge. The story found its way into the Guardian, where north of England editor Helen Pidd spoke to Phil. Helen later reported that the government had agreed to remove the advert, tweeting: “Teatime update: gov says it has pulled its advert featuring the baker who sold  F**ck Boris bread during the general election. ‘We recognise that this particular business does not wish to be featured and the image has been removed from the campaign’.”

Don’t blame me says Boris

Phil Clayton may wish to revive that loaf when he hears that the prime minister is going about the place blaming care homes and their workers for the high death rates. Johnson said in a TV interview: “Too many care homes didn’t really follow the procedures.” Of course, nothing in life is ever his fault. When Johnson urged us all to wash our hands, what he really meant that he was washing his of all responsibility for anything.

To close, let’s be fair-minded about something the government has done with its last-minute rescue passage for the arts. Much needed, so well done – so long as it’s delivered before the curtain falls.