Haircut and a shave

Today I went back to Hound of the Baskervilles for a haircut and a beard trim; it's been almost six weeks since I last addressed the hair on my head, and in the warm humidity of Singapore it grows quickly.

Although I could futz around with a razor and tidy my beard myself, it's sometimes nice to have somebody else do the hard work for you. This does involve having your head wrapped in a hot towel, and then lying back in an increasingly claustrophic shroud of heated linen until it's time for the towel to come off. I haven't had anyone rub disinfectant into my face before though, and that really stings. The underside of my face, carefully stripped of hairs, is now rather sore, little flecks of blood spotting across it.

I don't want to pick or scrape at them, so I'll wait for tomorrow's run, and for waves of perspiration to wash them off. That may be sensible, or it may be very very painful. We will have to see.

Although it's been a short week in the office, it's been a hard one physically and I was too tired to run far today. Even after an espresso I was almost asleep in the barber's chair, and a nap this afternoon didn't cure me of this lassitude either. I was conscious long enough for dinner and an hour with friends at a bar, but that was more than enough - back home then to read of necromancers and Nazi X-Men in a new book, before sleep. I hope I get to work on my Hong Kong horror again soon; one day my muse is bound to revisit, right?