bearded

i carefully planned my shaving schedule to be at the threshold of "brad you should shave soon for work" and "hey, you look like a hip backpacker who leaves his troubles and shaving equipment at home". matty has a few pictures, i hope i was successful. unfortunately i had to go back to work, despite my desperate attempts to find away to survive without actually going to work or doing any actual calculations failed and my personal hygiene was called into question.

the beard had to go.

it was just getting to the nice comfortable bushy stage where the red was peaking through and the itch hadn't settled in. my reflection and i, after a long stare off which, after several tie breakers, had to be called a draw, ceremoniously shaved our beards together.

the week played through my mind as the beard was pulled off my face. i had to return to the pub, a reality with which i am avoiding another reality. a very funny feeling it is to return to a holiday from holiday, even though that holiday has lunches and mean ladies.

i remembered the little shops that populated every street. where the people sit at foggy tables with other people they may or may not know. the people and other people do is sit, not talking staring with blank faces at the television, coffee cups or walls, which ever is closer or clearer.

i remember the security guard at the airport who called me by name. however it wasn't until i was through the magic beeping doors that i realized he hadn't called me by a name of mine at all but mr gordon downie. i turned back to shout thank you at him but he was already enveloped in being cute with the next tourist in line. i felt honoured that he thought i resembled the lead singer of my favourite band, however i suppose it helped that i was wearing my only favourite sweater.

i remember other things too, but the time has run out.

(matty left for spain just now and he'll be back on the 23rd)