Went for a haircut this morning, and it was a step right back into the Lahore I grew up in, complete with a photo of the hairdresser having tea with Princess Diana from the days of Imran Khan’s first wedding, by now probably a stamp of authentication for a certain Lahori pedigree. She’s an old friend of my mother’s, but she didn’t recognise me and I didn’t admit who I was till I was leaving, upon which she launched into a discussion of my family tree, her family tree and how the branches intertwine, and I’m afraid I acquitted myself very poorly as I couldn’t remember how half my relatives are related to me. She once went to our village with my parents, en route to Islamabad, and went dowsing for water, which clearly stuck with her.
Anyway, now I have a haircut, slightly aunty, but that’s where we are.