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Since this is more my website than a regular blog, I didn't figure I'd be putting guest blogs up, however, this lady, whom I can call a friend, had her own challenge that she completed.
Without further ado, Sarah Felton (@Syrupie). I was messing about on Facebook a couple of months ago, and as it has bothered me for a long time that women can’t go to a barbershop, when I saw an opportunity to have a bit of banter with a barbershop in Leeds. I did just that. I asked this barber (I don’t want to identify him) if he would cut my hair and the reply was - “I’m sure one of the barbers might give you a trim if you were to pop in.” Pop in I did! I had a coffee or two in the cafe bar and we chatted hair. I learned the difference between women's hair and men’s hair. Not the minutiae, but just that it’s different training for men and women because generally speaking women don’t want to have a short back ‘n’ sides! A ladies cut is usually softer. A date was set for my transformation. I returned for my appointment and was treated like royalty really! I caused quite a stir but only really because the *awesome™ chap cutting my hair was technically retired and I was bringing him out of retirement - much excitement among the staff. Chair and scissors located and I sat down. I’d let the barber ‘do what he wanted’ which I think is possibly more common in a barbershop than a hairdressers. There was a brief which I will share with you here: - A haircut I can style with one hand. Pinterest was our friend here. The hair wash was nice although, I think my *awesome™ chap might not have touched a backwash for quite a while - I wasn’t awfully comfortable but I’ll let him off!! Nice wash and condition and then a quick change of design and I’m back in the chair… Now I’m getting a tad nervous but it’s 25% nerves and 75% excitement. The experience is a bit blurry - I don’t remember if my Mr *awesome™ had started cutting yet or not but he asks if I want a beer - no hesitation from me. ‘My’ guy disappears and returns with a bottle of beer for me and something in a can for him (also possibly beer) I was in the gang now - or that’s what it felt like. My mystery barber kept taking a break by the window. Yay! I could sip my beer without getting hair in it. I was chewing his ear off (that’s talking a lot) which may have made it tricky to concentrate which he needed to do because he’d not really cut in a while. It was really relaxed and there was a fair bit of banter. My *awesome™ chap did a cracking job. I’m very grateful because I’ve achieved my mission which was to get my hair cut in a barbers and if at all possible change the world one cut at a time. * Awesome - DISCLAIMER I clearly do not own the word ‘awesome’ but it’s mine so I’ve made it my trademark or buzzword. If any legal bods fancy an argument could they please wait until approximately 2080!!!!
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No, this won't turn into a food blog, but some meals are worth talking about.
There's this place in Edinburgh called Kismot. And besides their regular meals, they have this monster, that's been featured on TV and newspapers and all that, but I didn't know that at the time. I believe that last year, when I checked them out, I was looking for food challenges. As a vegan, there aren't many for us, so I was glad to find this one, yet I couldn't sample it last year due to them not having it available. I wasn't expecting to come to Edinburgh this year, for the Fringe no less, and here I am, with that meal in my face. I like spicy food, eat it constantly, and have had a bunch of stuff over the years. I've had a few meals that made me tear, but were bearable. I've had two Pizza Hut pizzas with Nduja sauce that made me take the sauce away from the other one, after somehow eating the first one. I've made my own rice with 15 scotch bonnets, which felt mildly spicy. And I've two komodo dragon chilly peppers from Tesco's that gave me a similar experience, only that that one was in my home with less money spent. The Kismot Killer uses the five spiciest chillies in the world to make something that looks like the hell we all know from pictures. As you can see from above, they give you a small to medium-sized bowl of rice, and a medium-sized bowl of the concoction that would put Obelix to sleep. Oh, and it came out to Rocky's "Eye of the Tiger" (unless I forgot the song in all that excitement). Yeah, I didn't know why the music changed all of a sudden. The guy came out with a gas mask to suggest that that won't go near his face. After he left it on the table, Abdul was pretty much going "good luck bro. I'm gonna come check on you in 5 minutes." And I was like "I'll be fine," grinning like a moron that knew better, but was crazy enough to take chances. I put about 3 spoonfulls on my place, and covered it with some of that sticky rice. Before I dived in, I sampled it with the tip of my pinky finger and felt the burn right away. "Oh ho, this might not bode well," flew in my head at a breakneck speed. I have to say that I hadn't eaten anything much in the day apart from some crackers and some Nakd bars, which were enough for me to hike up to Arthur's Seat. Twice. So when that first half of a fork with rice and spice went in, man, it felt like something was trampling me with those spiky athletic boots. I started getting flushed fast, even though I still had some smile on for about 3 more minutes, and I still went in. About three more forks. And I felt I couldn't breathe any longer. During those forks, I figured I'd try something different like a chickpea or some bit of a potato. Nah, man. It was all bad. Like dragon breath. After sweating and stirring in that chair for a bit, Abdul came by and took me out to get some air, despite me saying that I can't walk. Yet I managed to slowly walk to a nearby alleyway where I stayed down on some steps of a flat. Abdul was loud, noisy, but motivational. The man saw a bunch of people attempt this madness and fail, and he also told me of one from the previous week that finished it. Lucky bastard. I spent about an hour in that alleyway, on a cold and rainy afternoon, in just a sweaty t-shirt and trousers. I was a mess. However, I started shivering, came to a bit more, and eventually made my way to the place. Before I left (and paid), one guy bought another Kismot Killer. I hope his bowels fared better. I don't use Uber, yet I had no choice. Couldn't walk back to my mate's place in that state. My driver was Hungarian, and as I know some words, I told him how much I like Kurtosz Kalacsi, which we both wished we had at the time. The feeling in my belly took a bit to subside. Maybe that's the closest to a male period feeling that I'll ever have, without the added blood. Couldn't really explain properly, but it feels like there's something moving inside and you have no ability to take it out or do anything about it. Oh, and just as he stopped in front of the destination, I opened the door and let out all of that spiciness. Even my throat started feeling it again. I went in there all smiles, and came out looking like I had surgery with my clothes on. |
AuthorWriting fictional stories or about real life people and situations. Archives
August 2021
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