Pat Jennings in 2020
In recent weeks, in spite of all the many real problems facing the World right now, the chatter among colleagues at work has increasingly revolved around our respective, uniquely out of control hairstyles. Grey roots, floppy fringes and impromptu mullets have all gradually become the norm, along with several quite alarming self-inflicted haircuts that initially appear reasonably acceptable when the person concerned is walking towards you, but reveal themselves to be somewhat, erm, inconsistent as they walk away.
I myself have involuntarily cultivated something of a retired 1970s footballer look. More precisely, that of Pat Jennings, a man whose own hairstyle has remained virtually unchanged for over 40 years. With local hairdressers gradually reopening, I'm now debating whether or not to continue letting my hair grow or return to a clipped, spiky normality.
While I consider my options, here's a brief proggy interlude from 1970, a time when both Pat and I gloried in locks that were lush, dark and long.
Egg - While Growing My Hair