Mrs The Millbrooker and I made the short trek to the D&C last night to catch a hour or so of Tony Harris's jazz band; we met up with Frankenkeith and also with several other Millbrook dwellers.
I guess most readers will know that I'm usually bearded. Sometimes only a goatee, sometimes something more fulsome. Occasionally I decide in a moment of aberration to shave, just to check what my face looks like. This occurred a couple of weeks ago and I've kept up the shaving routine. This will not be permanent; eventually I'll get bored with scraping my face and will revert to sprouting face fungus.
I've been asked by lots of people (including at the D&C last night) "What's happened to your beard?".
What do they think has happened? That it got ripped off by a pack of marauding tigers at Anderton? Perhaps they believe beards magically disappear overnight if left unattended.
I shaved, guys. That's it. Very simple.
I'm always open to comments along the lines of "you look so much younger" or "my, but you're so handsome without the hairy bits"; the question of what happened to my beard, though, deserves the silliest answer I can muster at the time