Beard

Shaved off my rather abundant beard this morning as my daughter said I looked like a hirsute potato. It took a brand new three pack of disposable razors and half a can of shaving foam to relieve my face of it's winter blanket. Thinking nothing of it I bundled my beard into the kitchen bin, complete with toe nail clippings and the remains of last night's fish supper. Some three hours later I was awoken from a mid afternoon nap to find Vera from the downstairs flat rapping on my door with gusto. She dragged me down to see her garden, a miniscule flower bed she has claimed as her own from the communal land which surrounds our block of flats. I sensed an air of unease as she cursed the sea gulls and unbolted the multitude of locks adorning her back door. And then it all became apparent as she pushed me outside, dustpan and brush in hand. It seems those wretched birds had tore open my bin bag, scattering fish bones and large tufts of my beard all over Vera's newly blossomed Hydrangeas. My heart fell as she looked on, I dropped to my knees and began clearing the mess. It took two hours to de-fuzz her flowers and clear up the rogue bits of toe nail nestled in her plants and she didn't once offer me a cup of tea! Next time I'll go to the barbers, at least I'll get a brew there.