A quiet day on the beard growing front...what with all that snow bringing everything but the hairs on my face to a standstill.
I have, however, noticed there are a scarily large number of grey hairs appearing from the chin area of my beard. Nothing ginger as yet.
I would like to take this opportunity to withdraw my comment that beards are for losers...having been sponsored by a couple of fellow bearders I have seen that they are a lovely group....so thank you beard brothers.
I'm realising that having a beard makes you part of a group, a collection of people with the same dream and I am now beginning to get the urge to wear a thick woolly jumper and sit on a barstool playing the guitar.
Strange.
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
Sunday, 1 February 2009
Day 1 - Weirdy Beardy
Like most of the more challenging decisions in my life, my choice of growing a beard was fuelled by alcohol. I had been searching the EDP (a local paper) website trying to find out what had happened at the Queens Head pub in Hethersett - there had been four police cars and an ambulance turn up for Sunday lunch. During my search I found the article for The Big C fundraiser and before you could say "beards are for losers" I had emailed for an application pack and downed a whole bottle of cabernet sauvignon....these things happen in Hethersett.
The application pack arrived the following day with a booklet showing just how much they need financial support, plus a sponsorship form and a poster of different styles of beards that made me feel a little uneasy. Beards really are for losers.
I started contacting family and friends for sponsorship. One of my friends, Amanda, emailed me wishing me luck but added that with glasses and a forthcoming beard, I had better be well-endowed or ready to be single again. I immediately tried to think of good looking guys with beards...this is like trying to think of people you would invite to a party called Osama.
On the whole, i think beards are worn by people who need a good smack in their furry chops...Noel Edmonds, Brian Blessed, George Michael and Rolf Harris to name but a few. Then again, some of my favourite people have had beards...Santa Claus, Kenny Everitt, The Twits and ZZ Top. Maybe, it's the man, not the beard. I shall have to wear it well.
I have started to collect sponsors and I think the total is about £65 at the moment...thank you to all those who have contributed so far.
Today is the first day of not shaving...I never normally shave on a Sunday so this is nothing new to me, but tomorrow is another day and a little more growth. I've never gone more than 3 days without shaving and the idea of having a beard really scares me. Cancer scares me even more so it's going to be 28 days of face fuzz for me and amusement for those around me.
There will be pictures posted on here in due course, so the amusement won't be limited to Norwich.
Thanks again for your support to date.
David
The application pack arrived the following day with a booklet showing just how much they need financial support, plus a sponsorship form and a poster of different styles of beards that made me feel a little uneasy. Beards really are for losers.
I started contacting family and friends for sponsorship. One of my friends, Amanda, emailed me wishing me luck but added that with glasses and a forthcoming beard, I had better be well-endowed or ready to be single again. I immediately tried to think of good looking guys with beards...this is like trying to think of people you would invite to a party called Osama.
On the whole, i think beards are worn by people who need a good smack in their furry chops...Noel Edmonds, Brian Blessed, George Michael and Rolf Harris to name but a few. Then again, some of my favourite people have had beards...Santa Claus, Kenny Everitt, The Twits and ZZ Top. Maybe, it's the man, not the beard. I shall have to wear it well.
I have started to collect sponsors and I think the total is about £65 at the moment...thank you to all those who have contributed so far.
Today is the first day of not shaving...I never normally shave on a Sunday so this is nothing new to me, but tomorrow is another day and a little more growth. I've never gone more than 3 days without shaving and the idea of having a beard really scares me. Cancer scares me even more so it's going to be 28 days of face fuzz for me and amusement for those around me.
There will be pictures posted on here in due course, so the amusement won't be limited to Norwich.
Thanks again for your support to date.
David
Tuesday, 11 March 2008
Thursday, 28 February 2008
Latest TWTD article - Southampton
Click on the link for my latest article for Ipswich Town fanzine website TWTD.
http://www.clubfanzine.com/ipswich_town/showNews.php?id=9124
You just write a few jokes about God and then there's an earthquake.......
http://www.clubfanzine.com/ipswich_town/showNews.php?id=9124
You just write a few jokes about God and then there's an earthquake.......
Wednesday, 20 February 2008
Blind Fate
Below is the beginning of a short story I have written for my creative writing class. We were set the task of introducing a very small nervous man to a woman who could barely speak any English. The setting was a blind date.......
Blind Fate
This was definitely going to be the last time that Valerie used the agency. She had forgiven them for the date they had arranged with Harvey, 36 with a foot fetish. He had been arrested on their first date by six armed police officers at Colchester Zoo after his children had found their mum in the garage freezer and her toes in the boot of the family Mondeo.
Then there had been Salad Cream Steve, Valerie’s stomach still turned at the memories.
Tonight they had promised her tall, dark and handsome but the man stood at the far end of the bar was just small, bald and lonesome. At only 3 foot 5 inches tall, and wearing a red jumper and yellow trousers Valerie hadn’t got her promise of Rupert Everett, the agency had sent her Rupert the Bear.
“He- he- hello, I’m Dennis” said the little bear-man holding out a sweaty paw he had just wiped on his trousers.
“Good evening” Valerie replied and took a seat on the stool he offered her at the bar.
Dennis struggled for a few moments to climb back onto his stool before being helped up by a passing glass collector. Their awkward silence was broken by music being put on the jukebox and Dennis took the opportunity to pour Valerie some red wine.
“Yo- yo- you, you like music?” Dennis ventured before swallowing hard.
“Yes. Music I like” Valerie replied, regretting that her English was still very limited.
It had been six months since Valerie had moved to England and despite her slow progress she was keen to learn the language. She imagined a relationship to be the perfect opportunity for some free tutoring and perhaps a bit of fun on the side.
For Dennis, whilst he was bewitched by Valerie’s beautiful bronze skin, deep brown eyes and very, very long legs, her presence reminded him of an unfortunate incident he had tried long and hard to forget.
Although a huge admirer of the culture and sophistication of the French the closest Dennis had ever got to their country was when a group of disobedient sixth formers had stuffed him into a suitcase on their day trip to Calais. Fortunately, Customs officers uncovered a squashed, breathless but otherwise unharmed Dennis at Dover and returned him safely home. He left his teaching position a week later.
Now perched opposite the breathtaking Valerie, Dennis decided the best history he could draw on was the French O level he had obtained during his own schooling.
“I- I- I like music too.” He started.
"J’aime les garcons de la plage”
Valerie’s eyebrows reached for the sky.
“You like small boys on ze beach?”
“Oh oh no, no, I like the Beach Boys” Dennis replied.
“I was trying to translate”.
A barman, who had been listening, turned his laughter into a cough and busied himself by wiping an already spotless section of the bar with a beer towel.
(to be continued)
Blind Fate
This was definitely going to be the last time that Valerie used the agency. She had forgiven them for the date they had arranged with Harvey, 36 with a foot fetish. He had been arrested on their first date by six armed police officers at Colchester Zoo after his children had found their mum in the garage freezer and her toes in the boot of the family Mondeo.
Then there had been Salad Cream Steve, Valerie’s stomach still turned at the memories.
Tonight they had promised her tall, dark and handsome but the man stood at the far end of the bar was just small, bald and lonesome. At only 3 foot 5 inches tall, and wearing a red jumper and yellow trousers Valerie hadn’t got her promise of Rupert Everett, the agency had sent her Rupert the Bear.
“He- he- hello, I’m Dennis” said the little bear-man holding out a sweaty paw he had just wiped on his trousers.
“Good evening” Valerie replied and took a seat on the stool he offered her at the bar.
Dennis struggled for a few moments to climb back onto his stool before being helped up by a passing glass collector. Their awkward silence was broken by music being put on the jukebox and Dennis took the opportunity to pour Valerie some red wine.
“Yo- yo- you, you like music?” Dennis ventured before swallowing hard.
“Yes. Music I like” Valerie replied, regretting that her English was still very limited.
It had been six months since Valerie had moved to England and despite her slow progress she was keen to learn the language. She imagined a relationship to be the perfect opportunity for some free tutoring and perhaps a bit of fun on the side.
For Dennis, whilst he was bewitched by Valerie’s beautiful bronze skin, deep brown eyes and very, very long legs, her presence reminded him of an unfortunate incident he had tried long and hard to forget.
Although a huge admirer of the culture and sophistication of the French the closest Dennis had ever got to their country was when a group of disobedient sixth formers had stuffed him into a suitcase on their day trip to Calais. Fortunately, Customs officers uncovered a squashed, breathless but otherwise unharmed Dennis at Dover and returned him safely home. He left his teaching position a week later.
Now perched opposite the breathtaking Valerie, Dennis decided the best history he could draw on was the French O level he had obtained during his own schooling.
“I- I- I like music too.” He started.
"J’aime les garcons de la plage”
Valerie’s eyebrows reached for the sky.
“You like small boys on ze beach?”
“Oh oh no, no, I like the Beach Boys” Dennis replied.
“I was trying to translate”.
A barman, who had been listening, turned his laughter into a cough and busied himself by wiping an already spotless section of the bar with a beer towel.
(to be continued)
Monday, 11 February 2008
Glad All Over
The latest TWTD article goes down well with the Crystal Palace fans.
http://www.clubfanzine.com/ipswich_town/showNews.php?id=8618
Everyone loves a fairy tale.......
http://www.cpfc.org/forums/showthread.php?s=8566c65ef4d8d65b03769fb54d8b93aa&threadid=165710
and.......
http://www.holmesdale.net/page.php?id=106&tid=75609
http://www.clubfanzine.com/ipswich_town/showNews.php?id=8618
Everyone loves a fairy tale.......
http://www.cpfc.org/forums/showthread.php?s=8566c65ef4d8d65b03769fb54d8b93aa&threadid=165710
and.......
http://www.holmesdale.net/page.php?id=106&tid=75609
Friday, 1 February 2008
Latest TWTD article
Here's my latest piece for Ipswich Town fanzine Those Were The Days.
http://www.clubfanzine.com/ipswich_town/showNews.php?id=8265
http://www.clubfanzine.com/ipswich_town/showNews.php?id=8265
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)