Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a barber in Broseley is like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. So, I roll into the shop on High Street, right? It’s a typical Tuesday, or so I thought. The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m ready to snip some hair.
First customer walks in. It’s old Mr. Jenkins. Bless him, he’s like 80 and still thinks he’s got the hair of a rockstar. He sits down, and I’m like, “What’s it gonna be today, Mr. J?” He goes, “Just a trim, lad.” But you know how it goes. One minute in, and he’s telling me about the good ol’ days when Broseley was all coal mines and no fancy coffee shops. I’m nodding, but inside I’m like, “Dude, I just wanna cut your hair!”
Then, outta nowhere, the door swings open. It’s a bunch of kids from the secondary school down on The Avenue. They’re loud, full of energy, and one of ‘em trips over the mat. I’m cracking up, but then they start asking for haircuts. I’m like, “You lot are 15! What do you want? A mullet?” They laugh, and I’m thinking, “Great, now I’m a hairdresser and a comedian.”
So, I’m juggling Mr. Jenkins and these kids, and my phone buzzes. It’s my mate Dave. He’s like, “You won’t believe what happened at the pub last night!” I’m half-listening, half-trying to keep Mr. J from falling asleep in the chair. I mean, come on, it’s not a spa day!
After the kids leave, I finally get to finish Mr. J’s haircut. He looks in the mirror and says, “Not bad for an old bloke, eh?” I’m like, “You’re lookin’ sharp, mate!” But inside, I’m just relieved he didn’t ask for a dye job.
Next up is Sarah from down the road on Church Street. She’s got this wild hair, and I’m thinking, “What am I gonna do with this?” She wants a pixie cut. I’m like, “You sure? That’s a big change!” But she’s all in. So, I grab the scissors and go to town. Halfway through, she’s on her phone, scrolling through Instagram. I’m like, “Hey, focus here! You’re not getting a selfie with half a head!”
Then, boom! The power goes out. Just like that. I’m standing there with scissors in one hand and a comb in the other, looking like a deer in headlights. The kids outside start banging on the windows, and I’m thinking, “Great, now I’m a barber and a hostage!”
Finally, the lights flicker back on, and I finish Sarah’s cut. She looks in the mirror and gasps. “I love it!” she says. I’m like, “Phew, dodged a bullet there!”
By now, it’s lunchtime, and I’m starving. I head over to the local chippy on The Square. Best fish and chips in Broseley, no contest. I grab a portion, and while I’m munching, I see this old lady struggling with her shopping bags. I rush over, and she’s like, “Oh, bless you, young man!” I’m thinking, “I’m just a barber, not a superhero!”
After lunch, I’m back in the shop, and it’s non-stop. I’ve got a bloke in the chair who’s telling me about his conspiracy theories. I’m trying to cut his hair, but he’s going on about aliens and the moon landing. I’m like, “Mate, I just wanna give you a fade, not a lecture!”
As the day winds down, I’m exhausted but happy. I’ve met all sorts of characters, from old-timers to school kids. Broseley’s got its quirks, but that’s what makes it home. I lock up the shop, take a deep breath, and think, “Tomorrow’s another day.”
And who knows? Maybe I’ll finally get that quiet Tuesday I was hoping for. But then again, where’s the fun in that?