Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a barber in Cullompton is like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. So, I roll into the shop on Fore 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 and chat about footie.
First client walks in, old mate Dave. He’s a regular, always moanin’ about his missus. “She’s got me doin’ the dishes again!” he says. I’m like, “Mate, just get a dishwasher!” But nah, he’s old school. Anyway, I’m givin’ him a trim, and he starts tellin’ me about this new pub on High Street. Apparently, they’ve got a new craft beer. I’m thinkin’, “Great, just what we need, more hipsters!”
Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off! I’m like, “What the actual heck?” Hair everywhere, and I’m tryin’ to keep Dave calm. He’s lookin’ like a deer in headlights. I’m shoutin’, “Grab your coat, mate! We’re evacuatin’!” So, we all pile out onto the street, and it’s chaos. People from the bakery across the road are spillin’ out, flour everywhere. It’s like a scene from a comedy film.
Once we’re outside, I see Mrs. Thompson from down the road. She’s clutchin’ her poodle, and I swear that dog looks more stressed than I am. “What’s goin’ on?” she yells. I’m like, “Dunno, love! Just another day in Cullompton!”
After a bit, the fire brigade shows up. They’re all serious, but I can’t help but chuckle. One of ‘em trips over a cone. Classic! Anyway, turns out it was just a false alarm. Phew! Back to the shop we go.
Next up is little Tommy. He’s about seven, and he’s got more energy than a Duracell bunny. He’s bouncin’ in, all excited. “Can I have a mohawk?” he asks. I’m like, “You sure, mate? You’ll look like a punk!” But he’s adamant. So, I give him the wildest mohawk I can muster. He looks in the mirror and his face lights up like Christmas. “I’m gonna be the coolest kid in Cullompton!” he shouts.
Then, just as I’m feelin’ all warm and fuzzy, in walks Karen. Ugh, Karen. She’s got that look, you know? The “I’m gonna complain about everything” look. She sits down and starts goin’ on about how the council should do somethin’ about the potholes on Station Road. I’m like, “Yeah, Karen, I’m sure they’re just waitin’ for your opinion.”
But then, she surprises me. She pulls out a bag of homemade cookies! “Here, have one,” she says. I’m thinkin’, “Wow, maybe you’re not so bad after all.” I take a bite, and it’s like heaven. “These are amazing!” I tell her. She beams. Maybe I’ll let her complain more often if it comes with cookies.
The day rolls on, and I’m knackered. But then, my mate Sam pops in. He’s just come back from a trip to London. He’s all hyped about the sights and sounds. “You wouldn’t believe the street art!” he says. I’m like, “Mate, we’ve got street art right here in Cullompton! Ever seen the mural on the old mill?”
As the sun starts settlin’ down, I’m cleanin’ up the shop. I look out the window, and the sky’s all pink and orange. It’s beautiful, really. I think about how lucky I am to be in this little town. Sure, it’s got its quirks, but it’s home.
So, I lock up and head down to the local chippy on Exeter Road. Can’t beat a good fish and chips after a mad day. I sit there, munchin’ away, and I can’t help but smile. Cullompton, you’re a wild ride, but I wouldn’t trade ya for anything.