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The barber could cut no more off, and at last I was released from the chair. On our way home my mother insisted that my hair had not been cut off as a punishment, but because she wanted to continue her interesting conversation with the barber! I suffered terribly from taunting at school, being called "Bristle Sprout" for what seemed an eternity until my hair had grown back to a reasonable length.Someone once said that "talk's cheap" but I paid very dearly for that conversation.Time and again she insisted on more being cut, and the barber resumed his snipping and his ongoing conversation with my mother.Eventually there was nothing left of my hair but bristles.

One of my worst experiences was when my father took me to the barbers in town after school.

Hi Frank, I'm sorry you had to suffer the indignation and humiliation that I did.

The effect was mortifying to be the only boy in my class still wearing short trousers and I had to endure the same cruel verbal abuse simply for the amusement of my contemporaries.

The way they checked was we had to pull the top up at one side and pull the waist band out while the teacher walked down the line checking. So late, I was the only child and my mum chose all my clothes and put them out in sets after washing and ironing. I suppose she was used to the way boys were clothed then and wanted me to be the same.

I too had to shake off verbal abuse and hurtful remarks.

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