The Cartmel Bar Blog

I know I've lived daaarn saaarf for just over two years, but I still run into things occasionally that make me think I'm living on a different planet to where I grew up - God's own country - the North.

I mean, crikey, £14.50 for a flipping hair-cut?

And yes I did go to a barber, rather than what my mother would often malappropriately (though perhaps accurately) call a bisexual hair-dresser.

The opening times seem somewhat different in sleepy Essex too. Back in the old country I could head out at half seven and get a haircut. Such is the way of the barbarous North.

But here I was thwarted at eight of the clock and had to venture out again at ten. Oh well, I shouldn't complain, at least I got a hair cut without catching rickets or some such northern malady.