Monday, 4 July 2011

I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now

Recently I grew a beard.  I had often wondered what I would look like with facial fur and now I had the opportunity to find out.  It was actually very easy to do - you just closed your eyes tight shut, puffed out your cheeks and WILLED the hairs to grow.  Admittedly at first I kept passing out but I think I got the hang of it.

I discovered that there were phases to beard growth: starting with the 6 O'clock shadow, progressing through designer stubble, complete with itching and scratching, and on to the unkept "my wife's just left me and I don't know how to use the oven" look. Finally you get enough growth to sieve soup and catch crumbs.  My sense of touch became heightened and I enjoyed the breath of a breeze as it passed my cheeks - but this time on my face.  I wondered whether any particular types of food would aid the process - spaghetti for instance.

So after a  few weeks how was it?  I found the act of running my finger tips through the bristles quite therapeutic - better a chin stroker than a chain smoker.  I started to believe that I looked distinguished and kind of intellectual, but that was all academic.  Friends and family tactfully declined to pass comment on the rainbow range of coloured whiskers, from reddish-brown to black then grey and even patches of white!  Perhaps I should've tried doing this years ago.

But duty called and I shaved it off ahead of a job interview - "employers don't like beards" I was reliably informed.  I argued that it was actually forward career planning for Father Christmas work later in the year, but like a boy teenager, it didn't wash.

"You look so much younger now" was the typical reaction to the facial hair loss. "You could pass for 38" offered one source close to the family.  I know she meant well.  Now my face feels soft and smooth and the male grooming kit cleaned and packed away.

Oh, and I didn't get the job so I might start straining again.

Friday, 10 June 2011

The madness of becomin' what one was never meant to be

Recently took one of those online surveys to identify your dream job or top career.  I tried to be truthful and answered all the questions without hesitation, repetition or mixed-up confusion. After all, you only end up kidding yourself when you realise that you could've been a contender.

The survey asked about my likes, weaknesses, strength, favourites, height, collections, attitude to people in authority and my relationship with my mother - standard psychometric stuff really.  The sliding scale meant sitting on the fence was factored out - the definitive definite article.  When I’d finished I excitedly scrolled down for the results.

Now to be honest I wasn’t surprised to see Personal Adviser, Editorial Assistant or Public Relations Officer showing up, but what really drew my eye were the areas with a ‘shows talent’ icon.  Again, Author, Writer, Novelist – yes, in my dreams.  But Priest, MP and Ballerina were a genuine surprise.

Then I started wondering about combining the suggestions to create or capture a niche occupation: Model Novelist; Entrepreneurial Religious Leader; Dancing Politician – Ann Widdecombe flashed into my mind and I screamed.

Some career paths are best left un-trodden.

Thursday, 2 June 2011

Love Sick

Our pet rabbit is love sick - so the vet tells us.  He's been off his food, lethargic and generally disinterested for a week or so.  Not like him at all.  Normally he's hungry to the point of starving and in the morning pushes the hand that feeds him out of the way to get to his food bowl.

After a physical examination at the vets, the opinion was that he's in good shape and there is nothing physically wrong - it's all in his mind.  Well that's a relief I guess, but I wonder how much more an animal psychiatrist would cost over the £35 for the vet's medical opinion.

So back in the garden I'm sitting there wondering how to help.  I consider getting him some magazines to look at in the privacy of his own hutch - Play Bunny, that sort of thing.  What about an inflatable toy?  We have a few small footballs kicking around which might do the trick. The obvious answer would be a mate for him to mate with.  Perhaps we could put him out to stud - a rent bunny.  He is a good looking little chap after all.

We love our rabbit, he’s almost one of the family. Since the day we brought him home in a box (the same way he'll be leaving) he's always been a happy bunny and hopped around his run quite gaily.  Hhhmm, maybe that's it?

Monday, 23 May 2011

Things I've learned today

"So go on, boys, and play your hands, life is a pantomime
The ringleaders from the county seat say you don’t have all that much time"
Bob Dylan, Up To Me

Things I've learned today:
  1. Be patient and persever, especially when accessing and downloading job details from web sites.  If at first you don't succeed, 'phone them up and talk to a friendly and helpful human being.
  2. Be busy and show it. The day is a good one when it ends with an achievement, especially one you can prove!
  3. Tie the bag up before putting your apples on the supermarket scales.  You can't look dignified when chasing a rogue Cox rolling on the floor!