More than I bargained for in Oxford . .

An uneventful drive to Oxford from Stonehenge had us arriving right on midday and a smooth early check-in at our accommodation meant we were running a little ahead of our planned schedule.

Loss had been pestering me for days that I badly needed a haircut and she had spied a barber just as we were turning into our street here in Oxford. We got ourselves ready to take the 10 minute walk into Oxford University area to explore but made a detour to the previously sighted barber. It was without a doubt my most memorable trip to a barber - ever.

I only took a cursory glance at the name of the establishment (Kurdistan barbers) and without delay was able to be seated ready for a haircut. The Kurdish young man did a great job on the haircut and we got to the point where I thought he had finished. However, he was not releasing me from his chair just yet. He reached inside the top drawer of the bench and pulled out what looked like a long wooden taper, with one end wrapped in a sort of wool material. I had no idea of the purpose of this, but when he started soaking it in alcohol I though he was going to rub it on the back of my neck before using the razor. How wrong I was.

A butane can was now produced and he sprayed the alcohol soaked taper with butane, He then clicked the piezo starter on the butane nozzle. There was an explosion of flame and the lit taper is now brought directly towards my face. I could feel panic starting to rise as the taper is waved all around my face in close proximity as my Kurdish barber - who could no doubt sense my terror utters the slightly sinister words ‘This, my friend, is how we do it in Kurdistan’.

I am paralysed with fear as I feel the hot flame upon my neck and around my ears. I’m sure I can smell burning flesh and hair - meanwhile Loriene is sitting behind me collapsing with laughter. Apparently the technique is designed to singe any residual hair and is their ‘signature’ treatment.

When finally the flaming instrument is extinguished and I am able to start breathing again, my Kurdish barber then asks me a question which I don’t really understand. He must have interpreted my trembling as a ‘yes’, because now he produces a pair of cotton buds which he starts swirling around in a sinister looking black liquid. Before I have a chance to ask what his plans are for these black, gooey cotton buds…. he shoves them up both my nostrils.

My terror returns as I realise that the black goo it also hot, but I relax a little as I feel that it is cooling. Afraid to move at all and unable to breathe except through my mouth, I am quite keen to enquire as to what is happening. Is it a new type of Kurdish COVID rapid antigen test? I ask as best I can - and the answer is forthcoming - ‘Ah, we give you nasal waxing job’.

My mind is racing. How did I get myself into this situation? Could I just walk out of here and live the rest of my life with these things in situ as the one and only alternative is very concerning to me?
As the wax coated cotton buds continue to cool I am trying to remember if my travel insurance policy specifically covered ‘medical evacuation due to adverse outcome from a nasal waxing procedure’.

Meanwhile, Loriene’s laughter is drowning out all other noises in this ‘house of horrors’.

I closed my eyes and braced myself. One, then the other of the waxed implements of torture are rapidly removed. It is literally like ‘ripping off the bandaid’.
As soon as the tears streaming from my eyes cleared enough for me to see, I leaped from the chair before any further surprises could come my way. As I swivelled around, I also saw tears streaming from Loss’ eyes - generated by a different emotion than mine were :)

The rest of our afternoon in Oxford was somewhat of an anticlimax after this. Bro. Stephen Whitehouse had given me a comprehensive list of places to visit and we worked our way through these pretty thoroughly.
Pembroke College (where Tolkien wrote Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit), Christ Church College (with famous buildings and rooms that have inspired writers and films - C.S. Lewis and Alice in Wonderland, Harry Potter and others), The Bodliein Library, The Radcliffe Camera, The spot where Protestants were burnt at the stake outside Balliol college, The Ashmolean Museum and Magdalen College were all visited and it didn’t rain right up until the end.

And Loriene has finally stopped laughing.Read more