Couple of days ago I had my head shaved to raise money for the Leukaemia Foundation. My theory being, I don’t have a whole lot of money, but I have this semi-renewable resource. So along with a couple of other people from my year, I duly sat in the student common room and had my hair mowed down to sub-stubble.
For several days beforehand I was vaguely apprehensive about it. Not out of fear of what I would look like – I went for a number two cut about fifteen years ago, so I knew to expect to look like my dad. What was bugging me was the idea of this all taking place in a public space. I couldn’t get Seamus Heaney’s poem ‘Punishment’ out of my head. Read it here. Not to mention also concentration camps, prisons, and the charming Army barber at Kapooka who will live forever in my memory for his drawled “Round here you get two choices: Which chair you sit in, and whether you want a short back and sides or a number two.”
Overthinking things much? I decided to suck it up and just radiate.