A recent trip, however, demonstrated that I still have much to learn about the protocols involved in this brave new world.
The first point of realisation was when I was having my nose and ear hair removed. For virgins in this area, this involves having the ends of several big cotton buds doused in hot melted wax, then the barber sticks them up your nostrils and in your ear canals. These are left for five or ten minutes until the wax solidifies around any hairs, then the buds are ripped out. This leaves you hairless in these areas. It sounds grim but it is not hugely unpleasant, and it does mean you don't have to bother about this aspect of your appearance for a month or so.
I was having this done while I also had a hot tower covering most of my head. After round one of having the buds inserted and ripped out, the barber decided he needed another go. He duly did this. Then he tapped me on shoulder and he removed my face towel.
'Look,' he said, showing me the discarded buds with various bits of hair on them.
I did not know what the appropriate response to this was. So I came out with:
'That's excellent work. I didn't realise I'd become such a circus freak.'
His English wasn't great and my thick Yorkshire accent probably didn't help the translation process. He looked perplexed for a moment, then he placed the towel back over my head and left me for five minutes.
A young woman than took over doing my beard. Already un-nerved by nose-ear-wax-gate, I was a tad on edge. She started by complimenting my beard. I told her that I used beard oil. She told me that was a wise decision.
'I love men with beards,' she said. 'It makes me very sad when they do not care for them.'
She then told me to lay back and relax. I did and I zoned out for a bit, mindlessly agreeing with bits of casual conversation, but being careful not to agree with anything that may make me a member of the Tory Party, the Reform Party or any other form of racist.
As she was massaging my beard (not a euphemism), she said:
'Shall I text your wife and tell her you're not coming home?'
Not knowing what this meant, I switched into logical mode and replied:
'But you don't know my wife. I also don't think you have her number.'
She looked perplexed. I felt she was about to explain the fact that this was not a serious attempt at seduction, but flirty banter between customer and trained professional.
Instead, she simply sighed and said: 'You're probably right.'
She then searched for a hot towel and put it over my face....
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