Like most other days when I’m working, I pop into Starbucks round the corner from where I work to grab a coffee before I start. The staff know me quite well. I walk in and pay, my coffee is ready. Venti latte, extra hot, wet, house bean, to go. Lovely. The other day I walked in and one of the girls working there said to me, “Hello Father Christmas. How’s Rudolph?” I replied I was going to Costas next door from now on. We both laughed. I didn’t go to Costas though. I prefer Starbucks. So now you know.
Apparently, I look like Father Christmas and I have decided therefore to call my beard Nick. Having said that, some of my so-called friends who, as you may be aware, are massive piss takers, have decided I look uncannily like some other old geezer and a photo is now doing the rounds.
I had to trim it up the other day as it was looking a bit unkempt but it’s starting to look like a proper beard so much so that I’m considering a career change. Should I become a Viking Berserker? Probably not. Most Vikings were gingers and I can’t be dealing with that. Don’t like the headgear either.
A biker? Can’t ride a motorbike so that’s out of the question.
Father Christmas? The works too seasonal for me so that’s a no too. Papa Smurf then? I may be a Chelsea supporter but I’m not actually blue so that’s out.
A career change now is a big decision at my age so I’m going to take some time out and seriously think about what I should do in future. I will keep you posted on the beard and on any decision on a career change. watch this space.
The beaver? It’s a regular visitor to my beard now. It gets quite moist. It comes. It goes. I’m looking forward to it coming again very soon. PIL has decided to name it. She calls it Clit EatsWood. Who am I to argue? It’s her beaver.
Have a great day.