Last Saturday, I had to wait 90 minutes at my barber’s. Obviously I’m not complaining, in fact it was good to see a local business being busy and especially so when I’ve often been there at times where my greying hair on the floor would be indistinguishable from tundra blowing by.

But this time I was in a hurry and there wasn’t anything I could do, so I had to sit there for that hour and a half. True, I worked on various things to do with a book I’m producing, and I read a bit of a novel, read a short script, played a game of sudoko, did my Duolingo Chess for the day and — I am quite pleased with this — also did a silent piano exercise.

Yet otherwise, nothing. Just sitting there. It wasn’t exactly peaceful, but it was still and I realise I’m not used to that. At the very least, if there are people around then I am talking to them. It’s exciting. New people. This time, I don’t know why, no. People came and went, there were probably six men at various stages, and they did all talk.

One guy made a new friend and got into a very detailed conversation about electric vehicles. (He doesn’t want one but is afraid he’s going to have to buy an EV soon. But it’s alright, because he charges the fuel cost to the company.) Then when that new friend left, it happened that someone else came in both to the barber’s and into that conversation, where he was told at length that the guy didn’t want to buy an electric vehicle but was afraid he was going to have to soon, although it’s okay because he charges it to the company.)

Okay, maybe at times it was irritating.

But being forced to sit there with comparatively nothing to do and definitely not enough time in which to do it, it seemed a bit unusually profound for a Saturday morning. I think I learned that there is a benefit to being still. I think I learned not to look in mirrors just after you’ve eaten.

I definitely learnt to go to the barber midweek.