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.
Had a good laugh at this one… maybe I shouldn’t have…
Oh, I think a giggle or two might be excusable.
Pax!