You’ll be seeing a little less of me from now on… my luscious beardie has been shorn, by order of the management.
And all credit to Gokhan, my new Turkish barber in my new home in North Berwick, near Edinburgh, for giving me a face finesse.
Gokhan, it transpires, hails from Bodrum, my first introduction to Turkey, on a family holiday. 17 years ago. And i fell in love with the country.
It was there that I had my first Turkish wet shave… back when I didn’t allow hairs to sprout from my cheeks.
And that and a million other things has made me a Turkophile.
Especially the generosity of my pal Onur from Turkish Airlines www.turkishairlines.com who calls me Jim Jim.
And shows off his home country to me… Wham bam, thank you Hamam.
A hamam will do nicely too
I never forgot how good my first Turkish shave felt in Bodrum and sought out a Turkish barber again when I visited Morocco 17 years ago.
Only to run into a charlatan – I suppose the clue was in the title ‘false guide’.
He took me around the alleyways before introducing me to his pal, Morocco’s Sweeney Todd.
And then when I challenged the cost of the haircut ahead of the cutting they tried to pin me to the chair.
Loosening myself from my predicament I zig-zagged around the Mall to give my false guide the slip.
Only to see him waiting for me outside, shouting ‘thief’ at me… ‘you, pay me, I am your guide.’
I put on a sprint and ran through the Marrakech downpour into the arms of a Berber snake charmer who was anything but chatmimg.
But more of that and other Moroccan mishaps another time…
just let me flag up here another cool people other than the Turks to get your hairs cut… the West Indians.
Or beardie pimped up.., Let’s rumba in Barbados.
Desmond’s, the old Channel Four Eighties sitcom set in a London West Indians’ barbers.
Only he was out of red and black colouring dye for my beardie.
The search goes on although the Tobagonians do have a cool plant where you can colour your whiskers yourself…
This lovely bronze orange.