I am a firm believer that when you relocate to a new place you should patronise local business. I’m more accustomed to shopping at Fortnums than the troubled Co-Op group, but I had to visit one of their shops to refill a gas and then eletricity key card. Whilst in the locale I explored for a gentleman’s barber and found one with the catchy name of Barber Black Sheep.
I visited the establishment yesterday for a tonsorial trim. There was no appointment system and business was conducted in an informal, one might even say haphazard way, but no-one, least of all the clients, seemed to mind. My hairdresser, a vivacious little thing called Heather who hailed from Melbourne, followed my instructions and I was more than pleased with the result. In southern Italy the barbers shop is the nerve-centre of the community as much as the church and, judging by the incessant waves to passers by and the banter with the clients, this was too. Heather kindly marked my card on local restaurants. The price was a more than reasonable £15, so I tipped her generously as is my wont. Living in the great metropolis we forget how pleasant life in a smaller community can be.