My name is Jack..

and apparently I live in the back of the Greta Garbo Home... which may or may not please my young friend at Iconista.... but there we go. suffice it to say, the Beards are back from their annual jolly to North wales.. Beard and beard junior, a caravan, mountains, sea and caves... a trip to the zoo, and a trip to the emerald isle by large canoe... well.. HSS ferry anyway... and very enjoyable too, though the first sight of european money had the younger of the pair muttering about toy money... but the sights of Dublin appeased him somewhat... but unfortunately the crossing was dolphinless.... however, we did experience the loneliness of Dolbadarn in the twilight, and saw the beautiful underground lake of Llechwedd, where a fellow visitor was astounded that a place like that actually had taxis.... which made several eyes cast towards the ceilings.... and our annual pilgrimage to the top of foel Fras took advantage of the second least rainy day of the week... I can also report with glee that petes eats in Llanberis hasn't changed at all.... but my brain is still slightly addled, and bed beckons.. until we all reach our summits, Wisebeard salutes you......!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

more avocets...

Now, those of you who know the Beard (and you are few...) will know that I don't set a great deal of store in celebration... and my own birthday has always been near the bottom of the list.. to be honest, ever since i was a bout 1 I've wondered what the fuss was about.... now, I'll not go so far as the Cartholic Encyclopedia, which states that only sinners celebrate the day they were born into this world.... to be honest, its more a sense of why bother than of actual fear of sin.... and I've never felt any less happy by not making a song and dance.. in fact, a lot of people I know are not even aware when it is... I myself have forgotten about the thing on numerous occasions, only remembering when phoned by the Mother-of-Beard asking why I haven't been round to pick up my card yet.. but there we are... anyway, this year myself and others conspired to make some sort of event of the date, as a practice for next yera, when suppos3edly I hit the "Big 40".... so, on Saturday night, myself, Beardson, and two friends, with the unlikely names of Robandsonic went, along with Mrs sonic to the by now fairly well known Wing Wah all you can eat buffet in mystic Burton.. as always, the service was spot on, the food lovely and the atmosphere suitably atmospheric.... many things were eaten, many elbows nudged, and teh Beard had a much too close encounter with a distress flare and a melon... but it was an enjoyable evening.... the next day, the Natal Day itself (no no no... not the South African Province.. ) was maybe not quite so good... despite the best efforts of a certain young lady.. a nice meal at the Dog and Hedgehog, followed by an interesting dessert could not get rid of the sinking feeling and the impending doomness that settled over me.... and due to certain events, company has been parted.... we liked each other, we decided.. but not enough.... and the Beard, while grateful to her for doing her best not to spoil the birthday, reflects taht it was only her presence that made it special... as normally it would have been a day like any other.... and although certain aspects of the day had an appeal of sorts, I did miss the first half hour of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.... although, I did see all of Planet of teh Apes.. the proper one.... so, not at all a wasted day!! but in the best tradition of beardness, I wish the lady well, and hope she finds what she's after.... but it ahs left me more determined than ever not to bother with my next one.... so far both attempts to make birthdays special for me have failed.. last time I was 18, and failed to get an invite to my own party... not that i like parties much anyway.... but it is, as they say, the thought that counts... but stil, I fail to see the appeal of birthdays.. I could get all marxist, and claim that the whole day is simply a capitalist invention to increase greed and encourage spending.. but I think christmas has that all sewn up by itself.... so that got me thinking... how long ago did the celebration of getting nearer the end of life begin??? apparently it existed at the time of Nebuchadrezar.... but why did it ciome about... was it, as I suspect, a festival of gratitude that one had actualy managed to survive another year?? but why a year?? why not six months?? why not a communal feast of surviving winter?? why was it considered that anyone would be remotely interested in knowing that such and such was born on this day... it alweays possible that once governnments had decided to record the deaths and births of all, that some primeval equivalent of Clintons or hallmark suddenly had a brain wave.... but I digress... suffice it to say the Beard is young, free and single again.. or at least single... looking forward to the future, and backwards to the past, and still waiting for an update from Tent living Andy.. of which more later.. but until we all realise that days are all days, and births are births, Wisebeard salutes you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!