![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Monday, January 12th, 2004
In retrospect, getting the clippers out and shaving my head last night might not have been the wisest thing I've ever done.
Now, the top of Sir Bryan's head has long since ceased to resemble a forest or even a savannah. The back and sides are still relatively hirsute, but the top? No.
Nonetheless, the dandelion gossamer that appears up there if untended does have a certain insulative (I think I just made that word up...) quality, and with an accompanying beard, the Winter is kept at bay. However I was lulled by a combination of the unseasonable mildness and the fact that my reflection was beginning to look like last season's last swede left in a damp part of the barn for too long. So, out with the clippers and off with the hair.
Now, we're not quite talking Jean-Luc Picard here, particularly before the cropping, but post clippage we're not far off. Certainly it should be possible for someone (who is not averse to a broken nose) to strike a lucifer anywhere on my bonce from the crown to my chin (the beard had to get the same trimming treatment, see, or I would have looked too much like a member of ZZ Top for comfort - especially when wearing the fedora).
The fates being what they are, of course, has meant that temperatures have dropped a few degrees, the dragon-breath is back and it's started raining. Incessant, cold, rain. Now, readers such as![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serratia, fromaway or mollpeartree who together with -possibly - [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] (although I'm less certain of the climate on his manor) form the northern North American massif amongst my friends list will no doubt giggle at the complaints of an effete Englishman whining about temperatures above freezing, but there we go. My head is cold. I may be getting nesh in my old age, but it changes nothing: my head is cold. And wet (well not now obviously, since I'm in the office, but earlier).
This weather is mythering me something rotten. I should have worn my hat.
Now, the top of Sir Bryan's head has long since ceased to resemble a forest or even a savannah. The back and sides are still relatively hirsute, but the top? No.
Nonetheless, the dandelion gossamer that appears up there if untended does have a certain insulative (I think I just made that word up...) quality, and with an accompanying beard, the Winter is kept at bay. However I was lulled by a combination of the unseasonable mildness and the fact that my reflection was beginning to look like last season's last swede left in a damp part of the barn for too long. So, out with the clippers and off with the hair.
Now, we're not quite talking Jean-Luc Picard here, particularly before the cropping, but post clippage we're not far off. Certainly it should be possible for someone (who is not averse to a broken nose) to strike a lucifer anywhere on my bonce from the crown to my chin (the beard had to get the same trimming treatment, see, or I would have looked too much like a member of ZZ Top for comfort - especially when wearing the fedora).
The fates being what they are, of course, has meant that temperatures have dropped a few degrees, the dragon-breath is back and it's started raining. Incessant, cold, rain. Now, readers such as
serratia, fromaway or mollpeartree who together with -possibly - [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] (although I'm less certain of the climate on his manor) form the northern North American massif amongst my friends list will no doubt giggle at the complaints of an effete Englishman whining about temperatures above freezing, but there we go. My head is cold. I may be getting nesh in my old age, but it changes nothing: my head is cold. And wet (well not now obviously, since I'm in the office, but earlier). This weather is mythering me something rotten. I should have worn my hat.
In retrospect, getting the clippers out and shaving my head last night might not have been the wisest thing I've ever done.
Now, the top of Sir Bryan's head has long since ceased to resemble a forest or even a savannah. The back and sides are still relatively hirsute, but the top? No.
Nonetheless, the dandelion gossamer that appears up there if untended does have a certain insulative (I think I just made that word up...) quality, and with an accompanying beard, the Winter is kept at bay. However I was lulled by a combination of the unseasonable mildness and the fact that my reflection was beginning to look like last season's last swede left in a damp part of the barn for too long. So, out with the clippers and off with the hair.
Now, we're not quite talking Jean-Luc Picard here, particularly before the cropping, but post clippage we're not far off. Certainly it should be possible for someone (who is not averse to a broken nose) to strike a lucifer anywhere on my bonce from the crown to my chin (the beard had to get the same trimming treatment, see, or I would have looked too much like a member of ZZ Top for comfort - especially when wearing the fedora).
The fates being what they are, of course, has meant that temperatures have dropped a few degrees, the dragon-breath is back and it's started raining. Incessant, cold, rain. Now, readers such asserratia, fromaway or mollpeartree who together with -possibly - [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] (although I'm less certain of the climate on his manor) form the northern North American massif amongst my friends list will no doubt giggle at the complaints of an effete Englishman whining about temperatures above freezing, but there we go. My head is cold. I may be getting nesh in my old age, but it changes nothing: my head is cold. And wet (well not now obviously, since I'm in the office, but earlier).
This weather is mythering me something rotten. I should have worn my hat.
Now, the top of Sir Bryan's head has long since ceased to resemble a forest or even a savannah. The back and sides are still relatively hirsute, but the top? No.
Nonetheless, the dandelion gossamer that appears up there if untended does have a certain insulative (I think I just made that word up...) quality, and with an accompanying beard, the Winter is kept at bay. However I was lulled by a combination of the unseasonable mildness and the fact that my reflection was beginning to look like last season's last swede left in a damp part of the barn for too long. So, out with the clippers and off with the hair.
Now, we're not quite talking Jean-Luc Picard here, particularly before the cropping, but post clippage we're not far off. Certainly it should be possible for someone (who is not averse to a broken nose) to strike a lucifer anywhere on my bonce from the crown to my chin (the beard had to get the same trimming treatment, see, or I would have looked too much like a member of ZZ Top for comfort - especially when wearing the fedora).
The fates being what they are, of course, has meant that temperatures have dropped a few degrees, the dragon-breath is back and it's started raining. Incessant, cold, rain. Now, readers such as
serratia, fromaway or mollpeartree who together with -possibly - [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] (although I'm less certain of the climate on his manor) form the northern North American massif amongst my friends list will no doubt giggle at the complaints of an effete Englishman whining about temperatures above freezing, but there we go. My head is cold. I may be getting nesh in my old age, but it changes nothing: my head is cold. And wet (well not now obviously, since I'm in the office, but earlier). This weather is mythering me something rotten. I should have worn my hat.
A cross-post from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
just_writing and hidden behind a cut so those who read my rubbish in both places don't get the horrors twice.
( It's supposed to be a pome, but it ain't much cop: )
just_writing and hidden behind a cut so those who read my rubbish in both places don't get the horrors twice.( It's supposed to be a pome, but it ain't much cop: )
A cross-post from just_writing and hidden behind a cut so those who read my rubbish in both places don't get the horrors twice.
( It's supposed to be a pome, but it ain't much cop: )
just_writing and hidden behind a cut so those who read my rubbish in both places don't get the horrors twice.( It's supposed to be a pome, but it ain't much cop: )