All I can see is the ceiling, a corner of the air-condition and a wreath saying Merry Christmas, it smells rather much of mint and someone is rubbing what I can only assume is shampoo into my hair. On top of it all they have glued, or perhaps taped a piece of cardboard to my forehead, apparently as some sort of splash protection. Lying back in a recliner having my hair washed is an odd feeling, not bad, not particularly comfortable since the woman is rubbing my scalp with vigor, just… odd.