Silence or chatter?

A surprising number of people hate chatting to their hairdresser. They find it so tedious and unnecessary they would rather not talk at all and just let the hairdresser get on with the job.

Because so many people feel this way, Finnish hairdresser Kati Hakomeri has introduced a "silent service" that lets you opt in advance for no talking. Apparently there are quite a few hairdressers offering the silent option.

Well, I'm an introvert but I don't mind chatting to my hairdresser. In fact I'd rather chat than sit in silence, which actually seems more awkward and uncomfortable than chatting.

It's not exactly difficult. My hairdresser asks me some mundane questions about my life and in return I ask her some equally mundane questions. I'm actually very interested in how other people are getting on - whether they have children, whether their parents are still alive, whether they have money problems, whether there are any serious illnesses in the family.

Is it in fact rude not to chat to your hairdresser? Several surveys have found that most people don't see it as rude, they agree it's a matter of personal choice whether you stay silent or not.

I wonder if hairdressers themselves enjoy chatting or whether they themselves would prefer us to shut up. Are they all natural extroverts or do they look forward to the end of the day when repetitive chit chat can be turned off?

As far as I'm concerned, whether I get a decent haircut is more important than whether I make conversation or not.

Tight lipped

I've tried very hard but I still haven't learnt how to be a chatterbox. I'm far too self-conscious to gabble away effortlessly and not be too worried about other people's reactions.

I listen to the chatterers spilling out their thoughts and wonder how they manage to do it. Are they just natural chatterboxes? Were they encouraged to chatter as children? Do they simply lack the inhibitions that affect others? I wish I had the secret of this very useful ability.

I'm far too aware of other people's possible reactions. Suppose I say something stupid or inappropriate or offensive or nonsensical? And will they be interested in what I'm saying or bored to tears?

Alcohol may loosen some people's tongues but not mine. A glass or two of wine doesn't make me more loquacious, quite the opposite. It's more likely to send me to sleep or block my brain completely.

I'm quite talkative if it's someone I know well and I don't feel they're judging me. Or if we get onto something I'm passionate about. If it's a total stranger and I feel scrutinised, I clam up rapidly.

In my case, the way I was brought up probably has a lot to do with my reticence. My parents and my sister were always quite tight-lipped, speaking only when necessary rather than pouring everything out. Entire meals would be as silent as the grave except for the odd request to pass the salt or the occasional hearty sneeze. My father thought conversation got in the way of eating.

The gift of the gab is a talent that I missed out on.

The price of silence

An American girl cheerleader who refused to applaud a basketball player she claimed had raped her has been told by the courts that she wasn't entitled to stay silent - and must repay her school's $45,000 legal costs.

Such is the American enthusiasm for cheerleading and the disapproval of anyone not entering into the spirit of it - even if they have strong personal reasons for not doing what's expected of them.

The courts ruled that a cheerleader agrees to act merely as a "mouthpiece" for an institution and therefore surrenders her constitutional right to free speech.

The girl's lawyer said this meant students could be punished for refusing to follow "insensitive and unreasonable directions."

HS, as the courts referred to her, was sexually assaulted by Rakheem Bolton at a party in Silsbee, Texas in 2008. She claims he and other male pupils raped her but he only admitted the lesser charge, which allowed him to return to the school and join the basketball team.

At a basketball game four months later she couldn't bring herself to cheer him and instead stood silently with her arms folded.

This seemingly minor incident led to expulsion from the cheerleading team and her family bringing a compensation claim against the school, Silsbee High.

In a disastrous outcome, three different courts ruled against her, the US Supreme Court refused to consider the case and she was ordered to pay legal bills of $45,000 (£27,300).

This seems to me like a sledgehammer to crack a nut, not to mention a vindictive and callous response to a teenage girl who claims she was sexually attacked.

The school might say that a basketball game has nothing to do with a player's private behaviour, and that her refusal to cheer was absurd and perverse.

But if the other cheerleaders were willingly applauding, what did it matter? And why weren't her personal feelings sympathised with rather than punished?

The message is clear: cheerleading is a sacred American tradition, and the slightest refusal to participate fully, even for good personal reasons, is an outrage to be firmly stamped on. How dare you spoil our fun?

Lost masterpiece

So I thought I'd say something about the meaning of life, the history of the universe and the global epidemic of existential angst.

- Ssh. Time for some silence.

- What do you mean?

- Silence is very therapeutic. It cleanses your inner being.

- That's as may be. Who're you anyway? Who said you could take over my brain?

- Oh, I've been running your brain for a long time. You were making such a mess of it, I was asked to step in.

- That's outrageous. You can't just jump into my brain. Bugger off right now.

- I'm only doing my job. You'll thank me for it later.

- You'd better be gone in five minutes. Now as I was saying, the meaning of life in a nutshell, stripped down to its basic essence, is this....

- There're huge parts of your brain you're not even using. Did you know that?

- Don't be ridiculous. My brain is as busy as a beehive. The level of activity is breathtaking.

- There's a bit here that's completely dormant. The bit that contains the literary masterpiece of the 21st century.

- Good grief. How do I activate it?

- It needs a special password. Do you know it?

- No. Fuckity fuck fuck. Buggery bollocks. So I'll never write it. It's lost in a neurological black hole. I could have been another Dostoevsky.

- Too bad. At least you enjoy pink frocks and six-inch stilettos. Goodness, is that the time? Must rush, I've got another ninety brains to fix before lunch.

- As I was saying, the meaning of life....

Nothing to say

Not many people are capable of staying silent for long periods of time. Most people are afraid of too much silence, it makes them feel uneasy, insecure, vulnerable. So they chatter aimlessly to fill the void.

I once knew a young Indian woman who was as near to silent as you could find. Her name was Kalpana and she worked in the same bookshop as me.

We would go out to a coffee shop and she would be quite comfortable for long stretches simply observing me and her surroundings. Occasionally she would ask me a question such as "Why did you shave off your beard?" or "When did you last feel sad?"

Or she would point out something she had seen. "Look at that guy with the amazing ginger hair" or "That waitress has a tattoo on her left shoulder". And I would see things I wouldn't have noticed otherwise.

She seldom said anything about herself. If I asked her why, she would say "I can't be bothered. And anyway, who really wants to know?" Well, I do, I would reply, but she wasn't to be budged. It took me many months simply to find out where she lived, how many siblings she had, what her parents did. "I prefer just looking and listening" she said.

This was at a time when I was having therapy. When I told her how much it cost, she smiled and said "I could listen to you, and I'd only charge a fiver an hour."

You might think she was too reticent, too self-effacing, too willing to be an audience for others. But she was always visibly happy, even when everyone else in the bookshop was scowling and disgruntled. She had some inner spiritual flame that illuminated her whole being and was never extinguished by anything.

She was a beautiful person and I was privileged to have crossed her path.

Cartoon shamelessly stolen from Eclectica