Time to find a Fag Hag. Part 2

       Trying to find a hairdresser in a new town is like trying to find a lesbian with taste. So I picked a smart barbers hoping and praying I was not going to come out looking like a convict. It all started great when after entering the man said that  it was through appointment only but He (and remember that) He said He could squeeze me in about 1.45 so Greg and I had an hour to kill looking around the shops, which is never enough time for me.
     We arrived back to the barbers in good time and sat down. To my horror I started to realise that the man was not going to cut my hair but this big busted lady who was chopping away at a 4 year old child in the corner. There was no turning back now. Greg was happy reading the paper plus to his joy a good looking guy had sat down next to him on the settee while on Greg's other side I was gripping hold of the arm of the settee hoping the fire alarm would go off at any second. Too late, my name was called and I was beckoned over. I felt like "Dead man walking" no turning back now. After the introductions I thought I would  play it safe and ask for a no2 all around but longer on the top so it does not stick up and make me look like a hedgehog.
    The lady was lovely and it all started well until her puppies started having a life of their own. They rested on my shoulder, pressed up to my back, at one point I am sure my arm was stuck between them. The sweat was pouring from me,bits of hair all over my face, images of her straddling me and knocking me out with them where flashing through my tiny brain. I was in Gay man hell. I adore puppies, if you have them girls then shoulders back and show them off but Please I do not want to touch them or have them flung in my direction. Then as fast as it started she announced in her eastern European accent "It's all done, You like"?
"Yes, it's very nice thank you" was all I could reply. When a Gay man ever says the word "nice"  then you have a problem. If I had come back with Fabulous, Wonderful or  Extraordinary then I'm happy but when a Gay man says "nice" Oh dear it's not good it is not good at all. OK I know I'm a bit of a drama Queen, I knew it would look "nice" for the evening but the next day if I did not put in a tonne of hair products I would look like an inmate from Holloway prison.
So my search for a hairdresser goes on. I will pine from my beloved Steve and light a black candle every evening in memory of him until the new Steve enters my life................To be continued