My hair is very fine, to the point that the average barber will almost always bugger it up and cut the top too short. I finally found a couple of guys that can recognise my hair for what it is and ensure I don't walk out looking like Alfalfa. Sadly one of them spends six months out of the year back home in Greece, and the other works up near the cottage so getting to him can be a challenge. One time at the greek's shop, he had jsut left the country and I was in dire need of cutting, so the young girl that works with him and his son got saddled with me. The son knew me and wasn't having anything to do with me. But the young lady was fresh out of hair dressing school and full of confidence. Well that confidence lay in tatters on the floor with the hair clipping before long, and Alfalfa walked out of there leaving her in tears ... and no, I never said a word to her. Didn't have to. But to this day, whenever I go there, she goes on break.