Kinninmont

I went to the barber today and noticed for the first time, which I should have noticed before, the elaborately carved inscription over the window.   It was apparently an advertisement for the wood turner’s craft alongside the ornate brick decoration and, once upon a time, rich plasterwork in the interior.   Nothing could be nicer or more therapeutic than a haircut and capuccino as the sun rises over the back streets of Tyburnia.

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