Guess what...

Guess what I did today.

Actually, to hell with the guessing bit. I'll tell you!

I cut my brother's hair. I cut my brother's hair with the permission of my parents.

Admittedly my brother wasn't very keen on the idea. I sat him on a stool in the garden, and took some hair scissors, and a comb, and gave him a trim all round. I've been wanting to cut his hair for a long time; regrettably, mum kept taking him to the barbers' and not letting me try.

While I was cutting bits of his hair off, he was sitting there grumpily complaining that I'd make a mess of it. These grumpy predictions just made me laugh, however. I doubt that improved my hair cutting ability. But I hadn't laughed so hard for ages.

Needless to say, I did a wonderful job and he was delighted and everyone lived happily ever after. Well, that's what this would read if it was a fairy tale. It isn't. And so this is what actually happened.

I didn't make too big a mess of cutting his hair. However, he wouldn't let me finish because he ran off in a huff after I accidentally squeezed his ear with the scissors. I say squeezed because the scissors didn't draw blood.

After running off in a huff he then peered in the mirror and pronounced that it wasn't good enough. I think he should have let me finish before passing judgement on it, but no.

It actually didn't look too bad. It wasn't perfect, but he could have gone anywhere unembarrassed. And besides, I've never cut anyone's hair before. I kept offering, and my family members kept refusing. Finally, some weeks ago, I gained permission to cut my brother's hair. (He was bribed.)

And in a fit of ungratefulness, he persuaded mum to take him to the barber. That's right. I spent half an hour cutting his hair and then he says he wants to go to the barber. Apparently I didn't cut enough off, but I could have cut more off for him.

So he went to the barber. Mum paid eleven pounds for him to have his hair chopped off.

And until he'd been to the barber he was grumpy. And horrible to me. Now he's been to the barber he is happy. And being nice to me.

And that's the real ending to the story of me cutting my brother's hair.

I just hope that next time his hair needs cutting I can cut it again. After all, I should do it better next time...