I am getting my haircut, unexpectedly discussing the internet with my barber.
He snips away.
I have been waiting for the K word to drop like that day's water torture.
She doesn't use it though, he says, except on holiday. She prefers the feel of a real book. I say to her, why don't you load it up and you can sit upstairs reading, but she says, No, I couldn't do that.
The charity shops do well out of her, he says.
Mind you, he says, anybody who can write their name these days is writing a book. They used to say, Everybody has a book inside them, and it's probably true, but if you want my opinion that's where they should stay, inside them.
He finishes snipping.
My haircut is over.
Much sooner than it used to be.