Is it a Wightwash and Ms X

I will start this morning by congratulating a fellow early traveller, congratulations Ms X for getting to the station. I should point out that this morning’s train was half an hour earlier departing because of a diversion, something that happens regularly. The train departed in the normal direction and then stopped, the driver walked through and we set off again in the opposite direction. At the point that the driver walked through Ms X said, to nobody in particular, “I don’t know why it has to leave thirty minutes earlier, it only takes him 5 mins to change ends”. That somebody with such a limited knowledge of the world around her should make it all the way to the station and then the train is truly astounding, unless she got a lift.

Secondly I would like to thank my ‘Wight lot’ the wonderful guys and girls whose tweets keep me smiling and remind me where home is, thanks guys. The sight of the shimmering solent viewed from the golden beach of Southsea is enough to remind me I do have a purpose. It is only a matter of time until I’m home.

I would also like to share with you some observations from the world of beards. I haven’t shaved properly in 6 or 7 weeks which is a reasonable start to a beard, there is no reason for this I just kinda stopped. What I have discovered is that the world looks different from behind a hairy face, it really does. The first revelation was that women like beards, I always thought that they were as popular with women as salt is with slugs but no they seem to approve. Firstly let me clarify, women like beards but that doesn’t mean they like me so I’m still securely single. The only negative female comments have come from two women, both of whom are gay, who would have figured.

This morning’s revelation, which prompted the post, is that a bearded face is not the same as a non bearded one. Does that seem obvious? Well I guess it does but not so at 03:30 this morning! Having mistakenly placed soap in my bag last night I figured I would have a quick wash with hotel shower gel, big mistake. My face foamed up like a night club in Malaga! The more water I splashed the more I encouraged the rabid foaming which is quite confusing in the early hours. I eventually subdued the blanket of foam and set about my day with a mental note to purchase face wash, or is that beard wash?

Next up is that there is a beard club, really there is and you just need one to join. Bearded friends and colleagues comment on the beard and voice encouragement, it’s the male equivalent of taking a kitten to work. Quite why people feel they need to encourage an abstinence from shaving is beyond me, but that doesn’t stop them.

Apparently not all men can grow a beard so perhaps that’s why they feel the need to encourage others. This may explain why men in general feel the need to comment. Men don’t compliment haircuts or new shirts, we’re guys after all. As far as I can recall I’ve never felt the need to comment on a beard, except in a humorous manner. I am genuinely surprised by the number of guys that feel the need to comment or to let me know that “it suits me”. Let’s be clear I didn’t actually do anything, in fact I stopped doing something so you are complementing my laziness. Forgive me if I don’t respond correctly, I’m not being rude it’s just that I am new to this and find it, well rather odd.

Finally let me share what the psychologists have to say on beards, it surprised me. I always considered that facial hair symbolised hiding and deceit, after all its almost hiding your mouth isn’t it. I was wrong, apparently it is seen as a sign of honesty probably because shaving, like make up, is actually a disguise I guess.

Choices and alarming assumptions

Having popped out on Friday to provide some IT sport I carried on with a few beers. The combination of a few beers and no dinner brought me to a bad place. I had consumed sufficient beer to consider that a Chinese take away was a good idea and dutifully collected one. The problem was that I had not consumed enough beer to overcome the poor quality. I think I shall pen a note for my wallet that reminds me I don’t like fast food. It was lovely to pop down to the Ship on Friday and see the old girl thriving. Obviously I miss being there but seeing it do well is the next best thing and hey it’s only a matter of time until I have my next one.

I awoke on Saturday morning to the high pitched shrieks of children on the beach. A check of my watch revealed that it was 6am, surely not? My watch must be wrong, no the phone confirmed the same thing. I looked out of the window to discover the shrieks were emanating from a pair of middle aged women. The tide was out and one was splashing around in the sea whilst the other kept dispatching the dog to ‘rescue’ her. My first thought was to shout back but they were too far, they had the advantage that the sea carries sound well. After 30 minutes I had my shorts on and was preparing to go down to the sea, wait for her to shriek “I’m drowning” again and then place a foot on her head and reply “Indeed you are”. Thankfully they tired of the ocean and disappeared, I can only presume that they found a window to lick somewhere.

In other news I was quite taken aback by an idle comment from a friend this weekend. This was one of those ‘uncle gav’ chats and I was sagely advising that it was all about different stages in life and I was sure that it would all come right for this young couple. The innocent comment from the young lady was ‘oh I wish I could just be happy single like you’. Firstly I need Jo to note this when she reads this post, see sis I told you I am just the non threatening type! And secondly I shall add it to the list of things that people wrongly assume. This list was started by the cowgirl’s absolute belief that I am a ‘blondes’ guy, despite absolutely no evidence. I think somewhere along the line I went out of synch with adults, hence the random assumptions, but kept in line with children. Or perhaps the gurgling smiles that I endear from babies are simply their way of saying “lets see if I can make the mardy old git smile”. Am I simply a challenge to babies?

Recent experience of a mate tells me that the middle aged dating game is way more complicated than it appears at first sight. It’s not all text messages and phone calls anymore, apparently you have to change computer passwords to match the name of your intended future partner. Although I didn’t think his name was “yourbunnyisboiling” perhaps it’s an anagram.