Knuckles, knockles, cockles and grockles....

So, the beard again is doing his best to prove that men (and I use the term loosely...) can simply (or even complicatedly) not multitask.... if you will forgive the splitting of a probable infininitive... in attempting to write a novel, fix up my bedroom, watch a Harry Potter film, and cut a plastic strip, all theBeard has actually managed is half a chapter of possible claptrap, a half hour snooze, a loss of interest in rupert Grint (but admittedly a renewed interest in Emma watson's jeans... I hasten to add she is over 17 in this one...)and the severance (without pay) of one of my own knuckles, with ensuance of blood over keys, sheets, wood, knife, and a round of toast (to be honest, a slightly trapezoid-with-squashed-arc of toast... but then i was a non-renowned geometrist for a few moments in my long ago youth.... but i digress...).... so, i hear you all ask, as I wait with baited ears, what has been happening to the family Beard since the last slightly boring update?? well, a series of lovely evenings, nights, mornings and afternoons (and usually in that order) with a certain young lady has distracted the hairiness of wisdom in the nicest of all possible ways.... including a trip to the Birmingham Art Gallery and museum with that personage and Beard Junior, in which mummies, champions and teapots featured in varying quantities, and above all a delectable dinner at the young lady's parents abode, complete with roast potatoes and good conversation with CYL pere..... accompanied by the younger Beard and the CYL's fantastically companionable offspring.... hello to the pair of them.... the occasion of course being the love of the Beard's birthday.... somewhere close to forty...... but a fantastic week for all concerned, I hope, with the prospect of rapid transit systems, lawnmowers, and of course cake... for cakes and birthdays go together, and so the Beard, wanting to puthis all into the special day did the speakable and put on his baker's hat.... a three tier sponge with fondant and soya cream (no milk for beards!!) resulted, and it seemed to be well accepted.... but again I digress.... the bleeding seems to have stopped, and i also seem to be a member of some disturbing thing going by the name of twitter, despite never having signed up.... hich brings mme to the subject of emails.... and especially the junk ones i seem to be getting at the moment.... as i said in my reply to the last one, If:I ;;dId"wanTM.y(PartS:ENLA@RGing:I@M damned@:If-I'll,LETAbuncHOfＳＰａｍｍｅｒＳ　ｗｈｏ　ＣａＮＴPUNCtuate LoooSE £W%ith Knive?s anywhere near my person...... especialy after witnessing what i can do to myself with one.... if I want viagra or any other blue pills I'll watch saturn 5 and start crying, and above all, let the Beard tell you all.... I really don't care how many different people email me, I refuse to believe tht this is National Jizz Week...... and i will not be passing it on to my friends.... but despite all the requests for bank details, the thing that bothers me is that none of these were actually sent to me... one was addressed to bobbysox@yahoo..... yet arrived in my Hotmail.... which begs the question, how!??!! and also politely requests the question, if these can get delivered to people other than the addressee, how many emails that i send are actually going astray into someone else's inbox? but there we are..... or possibly not..... now, Todd and Oslo are beckoning me back, as is a piece of nonsense verse (of which, more later) and also a soft pillow... oe of them will win, but I'm laying no bets..... so to the strains of Imogen heap and Tori Amos (who apparently has a frog on her toe) I shall bid you goodnight, an, as the possibly late dave Allen (must check if he is alive... its the least i can do) would say, may your god go with you... so, until we can all task as much multi as we would wish, Wisebeard Salutes you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!