GETTING towards the end of a recent sabbatical this correspondent made a tough decision.
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Beards. We're now too old to grow one.
Now, this is not strictly correct, for if we go a few days without shaving our face will be suitably hirsute. That's the problem as we shall meander our way to in good time.
But first some history, for beards and this correspondent go back a few years. When we were young, sometime in the 1700s, beards were all the rage. Just about everyone sported facial hair of some description. In fact those who were unable to grow one were treated as pariahs.
"Poor wretch," we bearded ones would lament as a clean shaven comrade slunk by.
"Tried to grow a beard but was a total failure. Because of that his girlfriend left him and then his dog bit him. It's a crying shame about the dog."
Going back a few years earlier and it seemed just about all our teachers at high school had beards and that included a few of the women. Beards were certainly de rigueur.
We used to call our great friend Ticker Townes 'Grizzly' back in the day when he sported a thick growth. We can't recall if that was a reference to the bearded character in the TV series Grizzly Adams who he resembled or because he was grizzly all the time. Possibly a mixture of both.
We concede beard growing did have its problems. Hygiene was one for getting food caught in whiskers - particularly after eating a pie at the footy - was always a concern. But you put up with that for the greater good.
They were halcyon and hairy days. But alas, they're now a memory, as we discovered to our horror just recently.
We'd spent a week lazing around at Struggle Street and shaving is a no-go zone while on holidays. However, a return to work was imminent so we decided it was time to defoliate our face. We looked into the mirror to start the operation. It was then we made a shocking discovery.
The grey bearded person staring back at us bore an uncanny resemblance to the singer, Kenny Rogers. Why, we would have belted out a couple of verses of The Gambler had we known any.
So we stared. And Kenny stared back.
"This can't be true," we muttered.
"Oh Rooobeee, don't take your love to town," we started crooning, hoping Kenny might join in. Kenny didn't join in. Kenny sang right along with this correspondent.
"That's not Kenny Rogers, with that awful grey beard," we cried.
"That's you." (Memo to self: Stop talking to yourself).
So we rattled through a rousing rendition of 'Coward of the County' before dispatching the growth.
The days since have been difficult for we have to admit we've never been the most enthusiastic of shavers. Back before grey hair made an unwanted intervention we'd happily sport a five o'clock growth, as they're fashionably known. We'd pretend that we were being trendy when in fact, we were just being lazy.
Unfortunately that's now ancient history. Every morning we front up for shaving duty in a bid to keep Kenny Rogers and our 50 shades of grey beard at bay. Life has changed and as is usually the case post 50, not for the better.
There is an alternative of course. We could grow a grey beard and learn a few more Kenny Rogers' ballads. But that's far too heavy a price to pay.