Sucrose

I'm sat waiting to have my hair cut. I'm feeling oddly uncomfortable. This has nothing to do with my impending haircut, because I've been having my hair cut in the same place for about 16 years now. The person who will be cutting my hair has done it on several occasions in the past, and I'm fairly certain that I don't have the nits. There is nothing to worry about. No, what's troubling me are the people sat on either side of me. Because there are some curious dynamics going on and, well, I find this sort of thing slightly distressing.

On my immediate right sits an old woman. Next to her sits a man of about my age, maybe a few years younger. Now, I can't recall the last time my mum came along with me when I had my hair cut; I was probably about 11 or so. I cannot see a reason as to why he's brought (presumably) his mum along; they speak only once, in voices so hushed that I can hear no more than a murmur. Why is she here? It's all slightly creepy.

On my immediate left sits a fat kid with a bumfluff moustache. He's about 14 or 15 or so, I'd guess. Next to him sits a girl of a similar age; she's not his sister, as she asks where his mum is, and she seems too cute to be with him in any other capacity. I'd presume that they have some sort of friendship, except she seems quite savvy and he seems like an idiot, and I can't see that she'd tolerate him for long enough to talk to for more than a couple of minutes let alone go with him when he has his hair cut. I can't imagine that there's any sort of sweet-natured adolescent relationship going on, because for a start if she was interested in such things she could do a lot better than him, and besides which young women of that age are interested in fat kids? I know they weren't when I was 15, and I can't imagine that the bumfluff moustache would swing it in his favour; if anything I'd imagine that would be a minus point.

While the fat kid is having his hair cut a woman comes in with two kids; she knows the woman who's about to cut my hair, thus saving me having to make smalltalk with the woman cutting my hair, which I always find slightly awkward due to my total social inadequacy, and I nod along and laugh at their chat about the undesirability of X-Factor contestants being allowed to have children. One of the kids is cocky and looks as if he should appear in adverts and complains about being there and is generally hateful; the other is slightly chubby but seems otherwise cheerful enough. The cocky one sits in a chair and tries to read a newspaper, but somehow contrives to fall off the chair. He then starts blubbing. I try not to laugh, and get away with it by thinking about the pie and mash shop being closed.