It seems you’re never too old for something new.

A couple of weeks ago I had a week off work. Half term for us teachers and a time to try and rest, relax and take stock of how the year has gone so far.

It never quite turns out that way though. Although the older I get, the more I find myself unable to do a great deal other than resting at times. However, the week was a bit different. I felt more tired than usual, something I put down to being poorly at the run of the year with some kind of flu bug that has clearly taken a bit more of a toll than I’d realised. As a result, as much as I wanted to get things done, I found that I just didn’t really have the energy. Thus, the tarpaulin on the garden furniture remains more off than on and the fences haven’t seen a lick of paint either.

As with most old stuff though, essential maintenance is required whenever the chance arises. And so, this week meant that it was time for a hair cut as well as a visit to the dentist. Yep, I really know how to use that holiday time, eh?

Both occasions ended up being far more nerve wracking than I’d wanted. In fact one of them felt slightly traumatic.

I hadn’t had a haircut since the middle of December and so the natural waves of my hair had kicked in and it was really quite the unruly mess. Big hair with the 80s long gone! But this wasn’t the problem. I’ve had the same hairdresser for around 27 years now and had been forced to find someone new, at least temporarily. This had happened once before, about ten years ago when my hairdresser was in hospital and it was a disaster for my hair. I’d gone to a chain salon in a shopping centre and received a clinical haircut that looked like it’d been done by a butcher…using a knife and spoon.

Fast forward a decade or so and my hairdresser – also a good mate – was in hospital again and had been for over a month. He’d been home and then back in hospital repeatedly and while I was obviously worried about him, there was an evermore nagging feeling that I was going to have to find someone else to give me a trim.

This would be only the second time anyone other than my actual hairdresser had cut my hair in getting on for 30 years. Actually, that’s a lie; my wife clippered it in lockdown!

Now I don’t know what you’re like, dear reader, but this bothered me. Really bothered me. Despite doing some research and checking out numerous reviews of local barbers on Google, it just didn’t feel right at all. I asked around about where others got theirs cut and still it made no difference. I didn’t want anyone else to cut my hair. However, I was starting to look like a wookee and my teenage son, who also has his hair cut with me, was beginning to worry about his image! Enough was enough.

Now you’d think it would be straightforward from this point, but no. I’d narrowed my choice down to two places and was even quite sure about which I’d go to. It was closer, better reviews and cheaper too. It made perfect sense to just go there…

We walked up towards this new barber’s as it was reasonably close and yet, I was so nervous about it that I took a detour. Thinking that we could arrive coming down the hill, with the advantage of being able to see if anyone else was in, my plan was immediately scuppered as we turned the corner to find that the owner was stood outside, opening up. This spooked me and for a few seconds I decided that we were heading to our second choice. Then, realising how old I am and how ridiculous I was being I played for time, taking us on another detour…for no reason in particular!

It’s amazing the amount of nerves, self doubt and just general sense of panic something different can create in me!

Eventually, we made our way into the barber’s shop. It was empty aside from the owner and he was welcoming from the start, which helped put me at my ease a little more. I decided to go first just to get it all over with and also because there was no one other than my own son to watch! Explaining what I wanted I envisaged the barber’s interpretation being to clip the sides and back down to the skin and then leaving me with just a clump of hair left sitting atop my head, like you’d see on literally every other British 12-year-old these days.

The result was a decent haircut and a pleasant experience all round. My fears were unfounded and my panic just a waste of time. The barber – Ozzie – was warm and friendly and left me looking way smarter than I did when I walked in. There were still differences that I wasn’t fond of though. Where my usual barber knows that I don’t want any ‘product’ on my hair afterwards, the new guy sprayed my head liberally, first with some kind of setting spray and then, weirdly, with liquid cologne! I was too polite to scream ‘Nooooo’ as he picked it up though!

Later that day we had dental appointments. Now these usually fill me with mild dread anyway. But this time around featured an absolute about turn of a change. Firstly, our dentist practice has relocated from its small, beaten up premises into a shiny new, vast place that’s been converted from a former furniture store in the middle of town. If I say it’s instagramable, I’m sure you can begin to imagine it. So just walking into the place felt a little bit daunting.

The worst thing was that the appointment was with someone new. Yes, another new person and this time messing with my teeth! We’ve had the same dentist for years now and I wasn’t the only one that was a little bit nervous about this change. My wife even made enquiries as to our usual dentist’s whereabouts in the hope that we might be able to change to her!

In the end, it all turned out quite well. Our new dentist was really nice and personable and everything went swimmingly. However, there was one thing that stayed exactly the same and just as unpleasant as ever about the dentist appointment. Usually my teeth get a bit of a clean with some type of electronic device and it’s often a bit painful as she scrapes away at my teeth, occasionally jabbing whatever the instrument is into my gums. This time though, I got the cleaning, but without the electronics. I think this had something to do with my pacemaker and the new dentist being a little bit cautious. So, cleaning my teeth just involved some sort of sharp instrument being rived around my teeth, with bits of stuff being dragged out from various gaps, much to my distaste. Sorry to sound like a child, but it hurt!

So, less than a week after my latest birthday and I’m reminded that nothing can ever stay the same. Like I said, you’re never too old for something new, regardless of whether you want it or not!