Traditional sports

This week we indulged in some traditional sports. I know many people feel that these should be banned, and are completely inappropriate in a modern civilised society, but my view is that they've been around for centuries, and British society is built on tradition...abandon that, and the Ravens will flee the tower. Further, traditional sports are a humane way of controlling something that otherwise would be a nuisance and I think there are enough aggravations without adding to them.

The traditional sport we chose this weekend was hair cut baiting. This involved weeks of saying 'your hair needs trimming' whilst the boy did his best to avoid the inevitable. He did well, managing to out fox me all summer long...often going to ground when I thought I was closing in on the final cut. But his resistance couldn't last forever, and on Saturday I managed to corner him in the Turkish? Greek? Cypriot? barbers in Hove. His resistance was short-lived and he emerged with his hair cropped to a 'sensible' length.

Unlike fox hunting though, that was not the end of the matter and I was given a fair degree of grief for the rest of the weekend. The cut was far too short and everyone at school would laugh at him. It was my fault. It's always my fault because I always tell the hair dresser to chop off more than the boy says. There wasn't much point in me saying that the reason people notice he gets his hair choppped is because he leaves it too long between trims. How unreasonable of me. Of course, this is the boy that took his hair paste (not wax, not gel) camping even though the need for a shower necver seemed paramount.

And this is the father who grew up in the days when long-haired rockers such as Led Zep, Slade and The Sweet ruled.