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  • When my son was little I used to tell him that every hair of his head was more precious than all the money in the world. He liked this idea.

    One day, after he had overheard his parents, us, complaining about cashflow issues, he came to me, confidingly.

    "Couldn't we sell one of my hairs?" he suggested helpfully.

    Several years later, here he appears newly mohicaned. All those precious hairs shaved off. I remember that strangers shied away from him in shops. I wanted to shout at them. It certainly brought out some darker side of him, never before perceived by me.

    But that was all a long time ago now. And I still have a baby lock, pasted into an album. I'll never sell it.
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