The Writers' Circle

Tuesday mornings held a special significance for Auntie Vera, as that was when she normally visited Toni's hairdressers on the far side of town.
When she had first started going to Toni's - nearly half a century ago, it had been a leading light in the local hairdressing scene. Old Toni had been an Italian immigrant, and had combined the immigrant's creed of hard work and long hours with imaginative flair. He made sure that his styles had been totally up to date and had been the first in the area to introduce the concept of pampering his customers with magazines to read and free drinks in the form of milky coffee, which at the time was seen to be very cosmopolitan.
When old Toni had retired in the late sixties, he had passed the business on to his son - young Toni, who had seen no need to change a winning formula, and had continued in much the same way as his father had. But now young Toni had also retired and passed the business to his own son.
The natural creativity of a hairstylist evidently did not stretch to the naming of offspring as the latest flag carrier of the dynasty to bravely snip split ends and dye roots was also called Toni.

The hairdressing salon had been closed for the last three weeks while it was being refurbished, and now that it had re-opened Vera was keen to get down there.
The first thing that she noticed was that the exterior of the salon had been changed. Where before there had been a painted sign reading Toni's Hairdressers, there was now a new shiny black fascia with the word Anthony's on it in bold chrome lettering.
Ignoring the faintly ringing alarm bell in her head Auntie Vera pushed her way through the door and saw that the interior of the salon itself had also had an extensive make-over. The old "bee-hive" hair dryers had gone, as had the small tables on which normally sat piles of well thumbed magazines. The porcelain sinks had been replaced with new stainless steel ones, and the reception area had been changed from the old wooden desk that used to sit in the corner into a brand new chrome and glass creation. 
Auntie Vera thought to herself that it must be a bugger to keep it all clean.

She was greeted by the receptionist, a young girl dressed in black and silver to match the new décor.
"Can I help you" she said.
"I've come to get my hair done" replied Vera.
"Have you got an appointment"?
Auntie Vera gazed around the salon. There appeared to be no other customers there, and the only other person in the place seemed to be a young man at the rear of the salon - whom she assumed to be Baby Toni, arranging bottles on a glass shelf.
"Do I need an appointment"?
"Oh yes" the young girl replied. "Everything is by appointment now".
"Well I haven't got one. Can't you just cut my hair anyway".
The young girl sighed heavily and produced a large leather bound appointments book which she proceeded to study intensely. As far as Auntie Vera could make out, there was nothing written in it.
"We can probably fit you in this once" said the girl. "Come this way" and she led Vera to one of the hairdressing chairs. Vera struggled out of her coat and handed it to the girl, who took it in the manner of a vegetarian who has been forced to accept the gift of a fresh leg of lamb from a slaughter-man. Holding the coat at arm's length, the girl disappeared into a side room with it.
A few moments later Baby Toni sauntered across and stood behind Auntie Vera, addressing her in the mirror in the way that all hairdressers are programmed to do.
"What will it be Madam"? He asked. This rather threw Vera, as for the last forty years her hairstyle had remained the same, and Baby Toni's father had not bothered to enquire if she wanted anything different. She was also unused to being called madam. It had been Mrs Akersley for ten years and then simply Vera for the last thirty odd. She tried to think of a suitable reply, eventually settling on: "The usual please".
Toni looked blankly at her.
"The usual"?
"Yes please".
"What do you usually have"?
"The same as always. You know, like Vivien Leigh the actress".
Tony had never heard of Vivien Leigh, and if he had, he would have realised that Auntie Vera's hairstyle bared little resemblance to the late film star's flowing locks. Vera's crowning glory being a heavily lacquered tight perm that resembled a woolly crash helmet that's one size too small. But Toni was smart enough to realise that "The usual" would be a trimmed version of what his customer already had, and so he set to work.
After a few minutes it became apparent that Toni was at least a competent hairdresser, even if his small-talk was limited to musicians that Vera had never heard of, and holiday destinations that she had no intention of ever going to, and things improved further when the young girl receptionist returned and asked her if she would like a coffee.
Vera said that she would love one.

The arrival of the coffee was preceded by what appeared to be the sound of an asthmatic having a prolonged coughing fit. Auntie Vera asked what the noise was, and was informed that it emanated from the new coffee machine that had been especially imported from Italy. It appeared to Vera that it was a long way to send a machine that only produced a tiny cup of bitter tasting black coffee.
"Where's the milk"? She said.
"It's espresso" replied the girl.
"Where's the milk"? Said Auntie Vera again.
"You don't get milk with espresso".
"Why not".
"You just don't".
"Well put some in it anyway".
"You don't put milk in espresso. Anyway we haven't got any" said the girl before flouncing off in a huff.
Auntie Vera put the small coffee cup on the counter in front of her and glared at it in a vain attempt to get it to leap off the counter and fall to the floor.
She had been glaring at it for a full five minutes when Toni announced that he had finished. Auntie Vera looked in the mirror, gave a grunt of approval and levered herself from the chair. She followed Toni to the reception area where Toni tapped something onto a keyboard. A few moments later a printer spat out an itemised bill on embossed paper. Toni handed it to Vera who retrieved her reading glasses from her handbag and studied it.
"This can't be right" she said.
"Is there a problem"? Enquired Toni.
"Of course there's a problem. Look at the price"!
"That is our standard price Madam".
"But it's Tuesday".
"Sorry".
"It's Tuesday".
"I don't follow you Madam".
"It's Tuesday. Pensioners are half price on Tuesdays".
"Oh I see. That was when it was Toni's. It's Anthony's now. We don't do special deals for pensioners any-more, but if it helps we do take credit cards".
"Credit cards"!
Vera rocked back on her heels as though she had been hit by a fifteen pound halibut before quickly re-gathering her wits and giving Baby Toni one of her best looks of pure hatred. When it became obvious that this was having no effect, she pulled the cash from her purse and slammed the money down on the counter.
"Humpf" she said, before turning on her heal and exiting the salon.
She had only stomped down the road a few yards when she was stopped by a shout.
"Madam, Madam"!
Auntie Vera turned around.
"You've forgotten your coat" said the young girl.

Auntie Vera was not the only person to have had a bad experience at Anthony's hairdressing salon. Many of her friends from the pensioner's day-centre had similar tales to tell, and much time was spent mulling over the inflated prices and the lack of milky coffee and women's magazines. It was generally agreed that Auntie Vera and her friends would have to find an alternative hairstylist.

Pam Harper, the council funded manageress of the centre suggested that she could organise students from the local hairdressing college to come down and give cheap haircuts, but the ill-feeling that was directed at Baby Tony and his assistant, and therefore by transference to young people in general ruled the idea out. Instead Vera's friend Kitty Gasket forgetting that her working life had been spent in the stores of the Milk Marketing Board rather than a hairdressing salon, suggested that as she possessed a large number of combs and brushes together with a new set of scissors for cutting coupons from the newspapers, she would be able to take on the role of hairdresser. The suggestion was met with only guarded enthusiasm by the potential women customers, and they all very sensibly said that they wanted to see Kitty's handiwork before they let her loose on their own hair.

Kitty therefore approached one of the men who attended the club to offer her services to. The person she chose was old Mr Dickworth, as he was known to be an amiable sort who would help out whenever possible. He had been gently dozing by the television when Kitty pounced. Having woken him, she explained that she was willing to cut his hair for free, and if he didn't mind she could start straight away. The look of terror that appeared on Mr Dickworth's face when he was roughly awoken from his slumbers by Kitty Gasket waving a pair of scissors in his face was rapidly replaced by a look of sheer horror, and moving with a speed belying his years, he attempted to flee towards the door. If it were not for the rubber footpad on his walking stick falling off at the critical point between the television set and the coat rack he would have been able to make good his escape, but instead Kitty managed to corner him between the tea trolly and the club notice board. It was now obvious to Mr Dickworth that resistance would be useless, and he was forced to confess to Kitty Gasket in an anguished whisper that it would be impossible for her to cut his hair as he had been bald since the age of thirty five and therefore sported a wig. He was most concerned that no-one should find out about his baldness and implored Kitty to find someone else.
Kitty Gasket had no idea that Mr Dickworth was a wig wearer. It certainly looked very realistic, and she said as much. Mr Dickworth  said that he was very particular when it came to wigs. He bought only the best and had half a dozen all of differing lengths, which he wore in strict order of rotation to give the impression of natural hair growth.
Kitty knew that Mr Dickworth was probably the only person who would help her in her quest for hairdressing stardom and with a most unusual flash of inspiration Kitty immediately came up with a plan acceptable to both of them. If Mr Dickworth came to the club the following morning wearing his shortest wig, Kitty could claim that she had cut his hair for him during the previous evening, and no-one would be the wiser. Mr Dickworth relived that his secret would not be revealed, agreed at once.

So it was that Kitty Gasket found herself appointed as hairdresser to the members of the pensioner's social club. She gathered together all of the things she thought would be useful for the enterprise including combs, towels, and photos of celebrities from the newspapers, and set up shop in the kitchen area of the club as it was the one place in the building with an available sink. She was quite confident that she had the natural ability to do the job, and had been practising in secret with a vase of pampas grass in her apartment.
Pam Harper, the club manageress, showing all the naivety of her reletive youth volunteered to be Kitty's first customer.
"Just a light trim please Kitty" she said as she settled into the chair next to the kitchen sink.
"Certainly" said Kitty before wrapping what the day before had been one of her curtains around Mrs Harper's neck.
Kitty snipped away at Pam Harpers locks, shortening the hair by perhaps an inch. When she had completely circumnavigated her customer's head, she stood back to take a look at her handiwork.
The fringe did not seem to be straight and the rest of it was on the slant as well, so Kitty decided to go around again and cut a bit more off to straighten it up. When she had finished, she stood back and looked again. Much to her surprise, rather than straightening the hair up, it had become worse, only this time it all slanted in the other direction. She decided to take just a little more off.
This went on for some time.
By the time that Kitty Gasket ran out of hair to straighten up Pam Harper's head resembled a badly shaven coconut.
Kitty produced a mirror, and tried to lighten the blow by shouting "Voila" a bit too loudly.
Pam Harper stared into the mirror in disbelief. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but it appeared that she was incapable of speech. She slowly raised herself from the chair, picked up her coat and bag, walked unsteadily to her car, and disappeared for the rest of the day, only returning much later that night when darkness had fallen to lock up the social centre.

The other club members had witnessed the departure of the manageress, and despite Kitty's cheery cry of "Next please" there were to be no more takers for a Kitty Gasket haircut.
Videl Sasson could breath easily once more.

With her hairdressing options severely limited, Auntie Vera was forced to return to Anthony's Hairstylists. Because of the expense, she had left it as long as possible, but after a month she could wait no longer, and once more found herself treading the well worn path to the other side of town.

The problem with opening a trendy, expensive, hairdressing salon is that it has to be located somewhere trendy and expensive. When Toni's grandfather had started out, the area in which the salon was situated had been up and coming. Unfortunately for Baby Toni, during the past twenty years the area had been more down and going. There simply was not the customer base of fashionable young things with money to burn flocking to have their hair teased by Toni. 
Having seen the number of customers rapidly dwindle from its peak on day one to less than the number needed to keep the business afloat he had been forced to make a number of drastic changes.
Auntie Vera noticed this straight away. There was a large handwritten sign in the window which read: All prices at last year's level. And another which read: Pensioners half price on Tuesdays. The young girl no longer appeared to work there, and Toni himself took Vera's coat from her.
A warm feeling of homecoming swept over Auntie Vera.
"What will it be Madam"? asked Toni.
"The usual please".
"A Vivien Leigh"?
"Yes please......Oh, and call me Vera".