I need to come clean about something. A secret I have hidden from all but my closest family, friends and postman. Darkness personified. Please don’t be too upset with me.
I have a beard.
There you go I’ve admitted it now.
It’s a recent thing. Not as if I was born with it. I was born with a mass of black curly hair. Was almost called Jimmy after rock guitarist Jimmy Hendrix. Yes born with his hairstyle. A few years later I would have been named Brian after another rock guitarist. In the end I was named after an actor who played in many cowboy movies without a beard.
When the beard started our son never mentioned it. Well not until he told someone working at a ticket office that his dad was trying to get a job with ZZTOP.
Trust me it’s not that long….
I understand the technical term is a short beard. A number 1. Rather aptly I had to re-type short as my first attempt replaced the or with an i.
It’s funny in the 17 years I was with my partner the subject of beards only came up once. That was on a French TGV speed train. So I don’t know if the beard would be fondly stroked or would produce a Paddington Bear like stare followed by the words “shave it now”.
Is it time for the beard to go. I’ve decided that I am now even less likely to be mistaken for George Clooney.
It’s never going to happen. Take George’s beard and transplant it on the back end of a Honey Badger. That’s what we are dealing with.
So maybe it’s time to say goodbye.
But our son is now not keen to say goodbye to it. This is an amazing turnaround as a few years back on a French train the guard had a beard. As he walked down the packed carriage our young son stood up, pointed at the beard and shouted “he’s got rabies”. By the look on the guards face that was three words of English he fully understood.
Now as part of his strategy to save the beard he has named it. As everyone knows if you name something it suddenly gets protected status. So what do I do now.
By the way the beard is now name Mr Crimble….