Considered reckless by some, he could, to these eyes, should the occasion arise, be relied on
to act out open heart surgery upon chilled packets of vacuum sealed beetroots and the like.
“A pair of old hairdressing scissors, a loose grip on the lingo and a souchon of common. Modus operandi.”
The running commentary, I supposed, being more for the ear of the dim-sighted diner than the barber or me.
To find any success in that line of business requires a diligence of discipline and a laissez-faire manner.
I squinted. I heard him. But did I believe?