A visit to the salon
As those of you who followed our somewhat busy period before the start of the race in Barcelona will know, the demands of the joblist didn’t leave much time for life’s little luxuries. I had imagined long walks on the beach, hand in hand with my girlfriend or gently perusing the endless sights and sounds of a bustling city like Barcelona after the relative calm of my home in Lorient. It was not to be however, and one thing that got forgotten in the mayhem was a proper haircut. Not to impress the passing gulls or fabled sexy sea maidens but rather a practical necessity given that I am joining the ranks of the poor and unwashed for this no frills race around the globe.
I might not have known how to ask for “a little off the top” in Catalan but having made my trade in sail lofts around the world I am pretty handy with a pair of scissors. So yesterday evening I stripped to my shorts, took up my tools and danced around on the back of the boat for half and hour trying to cut hair and nothing else in the process. This was a real challenge because it was blowing 20 to 25 knots and the Spirit of Hungary was surfing down the waves at similar speeds. It was certainly more exciting than my local Super Cuts type establishment where a bored teenager hacks distractedly at my head while I politely refuse the offers of what they call coffee. Give me dive bombing flying fish and a half naked balancing act with rusty sailor’s shears any day of the week!