During my sabbatical I have taken it upon myself to grow a beard. Why? I don’t know. But I can grow a beard such is my want, now that I don’t have to be concerned with such trivial matters as work since joining the massed ranks of the unemployed.
The results are disappointing. After 18 days, all I have achieved is a tramp makeover. What’s worse, I actually have some lovely blond whiskers which frustrates me further, as a decent blond beard is the stuff of surf folklore.
Instead of looking sagacious and philosophical, I look like a hobo.
I’m going to persevere until next Tuesday so that at least I can look back in my twilight years and recall ‘The time I had a beard’ or to me more accurate, ‘The time I didn’t shave for 3 weeks’
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