I’ve just concluded a fortnight of school holidays.
My wife is currently in Europe on her annual trip to visit her family.
As of Sunday, this unique window closed.
I returned to school today.
My wife returns on Friday.
This means that my biennial experiment is over.
What experiment?
Growing facial hair.
Last Sunday I had the delight to return to my well-groomed norm.
No scraggly beard.
No dirty moustache.
No more odd empty patches upon my chin.
The reason I get to unleash my facial fuzz every second year is simple…
I’m curious.
Can I grow it?
Can I grow it better now than a few years ago?
How much of the fuzz will still be rusty?
Will any be grey now?
Over the last two-and-a-half-weeks I grew the longest facial I’ve ever had.
And I then got the pleasure to reap the rewards.
Over a series of eight steps, I got to deconstruct my facial hair and send the seedy photographic evidence to my beloved a world away.
The overwhelming lessons of this experiment?
My “beard” now does contain flecks of grey.
I look especially dodgy with a handlebar moustache.
It’s probably inappropriate to send a photo of yourself with an Adolf Charlie Chaplin moustache to your spouse of German descent…
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