How would one retain the surprise of a grand head of white hair.
His white hair seemed too abundant for the size of his head. Over the pulpit of his serene pale brow it stood alert bristling with counsel. ‘The O’Haras always kept their hair’ he would say as if that were an opt in favour to the clan.
His white hair stood up like the pelt of a white cat menaced by a terrier.
He was vain of it. Like a patch of scutch grass it stood thick, white, ineradicable rejecting macassar oil, brylcreem, gel, and that concoction known as brinjal (eggplant) oil from India which he gave up after too many ‘I’d love a curry’ remarks.
I blame the editor really, you know.
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