Long live the beards

Time to read:

1 minute

So it was my birthday this week.

I know, I kept that one quiet – announced with the hushed reverence that goes hand in hand with the celebration of another day more mouldy, another day more rickety.

But on the plus side, it involved CAKE, some more CAKE, and BOOKS. Which is always a good thing, especially in that combination. It also involved a checked shirt, to support my aspirations of becoming a rocking-chair-on-the-veranda dwelling harmonica player. Just need the beard now, which was not forthcoming with the birthday post.


Cake – check. (Chocolate cake, chocolate icing, the sort of cake that makes you feel sick, but in the best, most satisfied way).

Book – check. (The sexy smelling “Leviathan Wakes” by James S Corey, should you be interested).

Harmonica – check. (Keys of C and A with B flat winging its way in the post).


That’s where you come in.

There is a severe lack of beard that even the cat hairs strewn across my pillow and stuck to my face by the time the alarm goes off in the morning can’t fix.

Beards are great.

Long live the beards.

Post yours – hair, food, cat or other such safe-for-work substance – in the comments below.

Bonus points for harmonicas and rocking chairs.

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