One of our octogenerian monks is now too immobile, or perhaps just too dependent on his motor-chair, to be conveyed to the barber. Gone are the days when the barber came to us. So the abbot deputed moi to act in loco tonsoris and give this Father a long overdue trim.
I have no training other than giving myself a number one all over above the sink. Nevertheless,
Br Damian acted as cheerleader, emitting soothing and appreciative “oohs” and “aahs” at appropriate moments.
Happily Father survived the shearing.
Fashion, alas, did not.