For the last five or six months I have been straining every follicle. Not that I'm keen on facial hair, but it has amused me and others, and saved on shaving time. The original aim was a Lenin, but somehow I couldn't tope it accurately; it seemed closer to Colonel Sanders. Recently, I wanted something more van Dyck (Anthony, not Dick), with a pointy beard and cheery moustaches. Captain Alatriste, I'd like to think.
But I have always said I would lop it when it ceased to amuse me, and today was that day. In any case, it might be impractical in hot and steamy Seasia, and people might think I'm odder than I really am.
This was the beard at spring tide.
This was half way through its lengthy and difficult defoliation. A Fu Manchu?
Here is the final look.
I think I look about four hundred years younger.