‘an afternoon with…’ Patrick
A couple of weeks ago, I went for a run. I chose to take a route that I don’t often run, but one I
have driven past in the car so many times.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a shop, a room filled with red and two figures in the
window.
It was a barber shop. Though it was just a glance as I ran by, it was as if time froze; I could
see what I had convinced myself in my mind was an elderly man cutting someone’s hair.
It was the perfect scene.
Throughout the run, and for a few days after, I kept thinking about the “elderly man” and his
barber shop. Who was that elderly man? What’s his story? How have I never noticed that shop
before? Did I miss a great encounter? A great photo opportunity?
Last week, I decided I was going to step out with my camera and walk down to that barber
shop. I prayed to God that I’d find favour and have a good encounter with someone there, a
conversation, maybe even take some photos.
And that’s where I met Patrick.
“
…How long have I been a barber? Too bloody long.
(Patrick laughs)
I learned to cut hair in Trinidad. From there to London.
I was working there in the West End, Great Titchfield Street.
There were a lot of students.
I met lots of people and I was able to cut their hair.
Next, Brixton, Battersea, New Cross. And that was it.
I’ve been here since 1970.
Wow. In that time, you must have cut thousands of people’s hair.
Oh God, yes.
And they are all very nice people. Yes… yes.
Like Winston, I’ve been cutting his hair for 30 years.
It’s more than cutting hair. It’s the connection.
When will you know it’s the right time to stop?
…But I already stopped. I’m finished.
I’m all good, my son is here now. He’s taken over.
I’m just a sweeper.
(Patrick laughs)
…I’m just a sweeper.
