Days 1-3: These don't really count, as any beard growth during these days is both minimal and simply a result of laziness. At any given point I normally have a light dusting of grimy whiskers, which are due entirely to an ongoing lack of interest in my own personal appearance, rather than in any attempt at facial styling.
Day 3: Have the dawning realisation that my chin now makes a faint scratching noise when rubbed. As a result I spend several happy minutes sitting alone at the dining table, absent-mindedly stroking my nascent whiskers with the back of a teaspoon in order to listen to the variations in whispering tone the different parts of my face now produce. This experiment is rudely interrupted by The Wife, who tartly requests that I make sure I put the teaspoon straight in the dishwasher when I have finished.
I decide I will let the whiskers grow for bit, and see what happens. At this point, I am officially 'growing a beard' and Beardwatch 2010 has formally commenced.
Day 4: My whiskers are thickening in a really strange pattern. From a distance, it looks as if my face has been cupped lovingly in the hands of a chimney sweep who has some missing fingers.
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
Beardwatch: two weeks of whiskers
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Dead pandas and Christmas trees
I am driving Eldest back from her swimming lesson, en route to pick up T'wife and Youngest for a day out in London. We are going to the British Museum, which I have some misgivings about: there are some great things to see there if you are at all interested in history, or culture, or anthropology - but none of those subjects feature highly on either of my daughters 'must see' list. However, as there are no Museums dedicated to either Bella Sara, My Little Pony or 'wiping bogies on your sister', it will have to do. For her part, my wife (whose idea this trip is) is certain it will be great, because their website says there is a 'Children's trail'. I am far less convinced, because unless this 'Children's trail' winds it's way through a display of Hello Kitty! merchandise, I can't see it holding their interest. (From personal recollection there are an awful lot of ancient clay pots in the British Museum. You can call it a 'Children's trail' all you like, but it's still clay pots in display cases, even if you give them a free colouring book...)
Nonetheless, I feel it my duty to instill some kind of anticipation for the day's forthcoming events in Eldest.
"So, are you excited?" I ask. "About going to the museum today?"
Eldest signs theatrically and gazes out of the window. "I have been to the museum before..." she says, in a voice that suggests that any discussion on so mundane a topic fills her with world-weariness..
"Not this museum, you haven't" I say.
"Yes, I have. It has a dead panda in it."
