Thread: Sun - July 07th - Sat July 13th

Monday

A cut! Yes, a CUT!

It happens, I guess, to the best of us. But I felt quite like Lady Macbeth screaming 'Yet here's a cut, out damn cut, out I say!'.

It's so disturbing suffering a straight razor cut. Not on the first shave; it's expected. Even all the way during the first week. Even the first month. Especially so in the early days when demonstrating to some unfortunate family member (or worse, casual friend) who you've dragged in to your bathroom to watch you shave (the conversation started with the financial crisis, progressed from there to capitalism, consumerism, your penchant for all things vintage and 'quaint' and lurched from there to stories of fountain pens, vintage cufflinks, 'proper' hand made boots and then, of course, vintage razors.) But after two years' experience a cut is embarrassing.

A whole lot less embarrassing, though, than a shaving cut with a Bic disposable. What are you supposed to say in reply to "Hey, see you had a fight with the razor this morning" when a Bic was the guilty weapon, apart from "F*&^ off."? But when a straight is the instigator it generates a "Well, yeah, I shave with a straight razor you know, yeah, one of those cut throat things". You end the conversation half an hour later with the fellow converser gazing after you with unabashed envy as you stride away confidently, feeling very much 'a man's man'.

In this instance the Klas Törnblom delivered the cut, the Body Shop Macca Root is suspected of being an enabler; the Tabac hurriedly hushed up the scene with soothing caresses as it "Didn't know nothing" but when pressed did allow that "Der schneiden is verboten, Klas should have known that..."

PS, I'm prepared to discuss the correct placement of the apostrophe in 'two years' if anyone is so inclined...