Hair can help

Note from me: This post was meant to go up in November but after broadband fights and stuff it failed to upload. So now, at last, I'm posting it.

I need to confess what has happened to me over the past few weeks.

I'm quite a conservative fellow. I rarely swear, eat my greens and only touch whisk(ey)/cider/ale for medicinal reasons.

That and the love of getting giddy and giggly.

Just so you can get an idea, this is me:

See? Shirt. Tie. Face.

But recently I've stepped out of my comfort zone.

People no longer make eye contact with me. Their eyes wander from my usual gaze to just below my nose. They stumble over words. Their concentration wavers and they seem lost in the wonder over my style statement.

Since the start of the month I've itched, twitched and scratched my upper lip all in the name of charity and awareness.

What can I say? Movember has brought out the rascal in me. I've inspired people to compare me to a member of the Village People or a Western bandit.

Don't believe me?

Mo. Jumper. Face that means business.

But now it's drawing to an end.

Farewell to the fuzz. Move over Mo. Tell the tache to toddle off.  My face is about to be reclaimed by skin.

So look. If you know someone who's joined this crusade over the past month, do give them your support. 

Sure, laugh with them. Give yourself an excuse to giggle at their style. If we can inspire laughter, brilliant. 

But also show them some love, as Americans from the 1990s used to say. Yeah, OK, this information is from episodes of Ricki Lake, but that's the best I can do.

We men, as a whole, don't tend to put ourselves forward if there's a medical issue. We're great at ignoring things. We can pretend we've got blinkers on if there's an issue. We look straight ahead.

If a group of blokes growing facial fluff can help others face up to what's going on around them, then brilliant. It may be silly but Movember can make a difference.

Time to reflect

Well that's come around quickly.

The wedding is Saturday.

I'm planning to write a few blogs before the W-Day* but the way things have gone I may not have time to put paws to keyboard.

So, I'm making hay while the sun shines. 

We're pretty much ready. I'm all one for making lists and but this is one of those times where the items keep growing. Extra bits you've remembered creep on to the bottom of the paper. 

At the end of wedding prep, you realise you've gained a glut of extra information that 'may' come in useful again.  Words that you never heard until about a week ago creep their way into conversations. You would try and forget some of it and yet something tells you it will appear in a pub quiz in two years.

My speech is written, we've nearly packed and I just need a haircut.

Easy.

And yet...

Still a few days to go.

*I hope I'm the first to use that phrase. I'll probably find out W-Day was the day they invaded Winter. You know, the season. These things do happen folks. It's on wikipedia. That's always right, right? Right?

The Wrong Trousers

There are downsides to losing weight.

Sure, you get a confidence boost, you (hopefully) get healthier and generally feel better about yourself, but there are remote times when you wish things could be adaptable.

Take last night.

I had the glam job of cleaning the bathroom  and picked out some old clothes to wear.

The T-shirts were fine. OK, a bit baggy but they did the job.

But the trousers? A lost cause. Every pair slid down my frame, finally resting around my bottom. It looked ridiculous and I looked several years too late for that particular style.

The horror.

If I had a hula-hoop to hand I'd have used it to fashion a clown-esque pantaloons. At least they would have looked a tad more sensible than the slack slacks I modelled.

That shallow quibble aside, things are going well.
OK, I miss having pies.
And pasties.
And a bit of booze.
But, all in all, I'm feeling better in myself.

The big talk

In four weeks today I will be married.

And you know what? I'm calm about it all.

OK, maybe not all but the actually ceremony and commitment? Not a problem.

I'm really looking forward to the day. We've worked like mad to get everything how we want and, hopefully, it should be great fun.

To those who are getting married but have yet to start planning I pass on these words of advice. You should know this now before you go further.

It's not a bad thing, it's just vital information.

Picture me as your wedding-prep guru, pour yourself a glass of milk and sit down.

It's time for the big talk. You probably think you know this but, and trust me on this one, you don't know how true this is.

As a wise man says, the thing about this, is this:

The preparation is kinda crazy.

Both the WTB and I have careers where we juggle different things during the day. Multi-tasking is not an alien word to us, though it is a word I detest. Bloomin' buzzword.
Even so, taking on a wedding has moved us out of our comfort zones (bloomin buzzword).

You enter a world where napkin tones are a discussion point. The colour is grey in case you're wondering. You're probably not, and, if you know the WTB, you've probably guessed that anyway.
It's a world where you get to pick what kind of portable toilet you'd like. Standard or luxury are just two of the many options that await you. Will standard reflect back on you? If it's luxury you're after, what kind of music would you like piped in?
It's a world where you feel every detail will be scrutinised. Is this the right font for the invites? Should I sit my brothers nearest the bar? Can I get away with publishing my speech online on the day? Can I tweet from the church? What kind of pants best reflect me as a newly married man? What colour should my socks be?*

You feel that these will all be looked at, examined, and discussed. You feel that everything will be analysed within an inch of its life. You feel that there will be gossip.

You know what? There will be.

But the key, and excuse me for venturing into saccharine-land here, is that none of it really matters.

What matters is you and your WTB standing in front of your friends and taking that step together.

That's why I'm not nervous. I'm looking forward to it.

I know things could go wrong. I know it could probably rain (mainly because it's Cornwall and, let's face it folks, we Cornish have been running the 'Always sunny in Cornwall' con for many a year now). I know Great Aunt Ethel might not agree with the music coming from the cubicle outside.

But hell, we've coped with the juggling, the disappointments, the long days. We've found the place. We've tracked down the last existing available caterer and thanked our stars that she's a legend. We've sorted the problems so far, all with a smile and a muttered swearword under our breaths.

Sure, things could go wrong. But we can deal with it.

It's our day.

And you'll get through it too. Trust in yourselves.



Just the stag to get through then...





















*Answers to the questions:

Yes, it is the right font. Gill Sans is lovely.
I should sit at least one near the bar.
Yes I can and probably will - just before I say it perhaps to launch speech karaoke.
I can't and I wouldn't. #rightthingtodo
Posh pants.
As many colours as possible.

Missing weeks

I wish I could tell you what I've been doing over the past few weeks.

While that may sound like I've been on some huge drinking session, I actually can't remember what I have been doing.

I know I've been to work. This is because my supply of porridge has gone down in my draw.

I know I've been to the FBIL's* wedding. I bought a suit. I did some dancing. I took some pictures. I was there.

I know I've started to learn Something on Gertie the ukulele. That's 'Something' by The Beatles not just 'something' on Gertie, although, at times, it does sound like something else not Something. So if you heard me I wouldn't blame you for thinking it was something and not being able to work out what that something was, only sure in the fact it wasn't Something.

I know I've been to the gym. I've picked my favourite locker and everything.

I also know I've done some wedding prep. The wine and suit (oh my) are bought and we've paid for the rings.

However, in that time, I don't know why I've not blogged.

Although I've written about writers block before I wonder if I've just gone through a massive spell of it.

There have been numerous attempts at writing this.

I started one on dentists following my first visit to one in years. Yes, I know, I should have gone before. But I really do freak out over those trips. Sweats, shakes, swearing, the whole kaboodle.

Another focused on how many weeks I had left until the big day. It was 18 weeks at that stage. I seemed a little worried when I read it back. Ha!

So apart from the dentist, ukulele, wedding, working, gyming, shopping and prepping for the wedding, just what have I done?



Perhaps I have been drunk.


Skills.


*Future Brother-In-Law

Age changes

So. I'm 30.

Now I know my boyish good looks, full head of hair and wrinkle-free skin may suggest otherwise but believe me, I've hit a milestone in my life.

It's weird how we give such ages so much meaning. On two occasions I've been told odd things about hitting my third decade.

On hearing about my birthday, the delightful ladies in the features department broke the news to me: 'Ah 30. That's when men go mad.'

I'm taking this as a complement. I mean, it suggests that I haven't lost it already. It means that, compared to some people, I'm relatively normal.

However, I will do my best not to swim against the tide on this. And my mum has helped me. To go on Monty I now have a horn (ahem).

I. Love. That.

Not only will I be the man with the weird Union Flag safety-hat on his head, but also the man riding the mountain bike with the really loud, clown-like horn.

Sod the bell, I'm making some noise.

A quick aside. My family surprised me a week ago to spend my birthday with me. It was lovely to see them. We had a great time watching the rugby, eating and drinking.

While they were up Si, an extra brother, told me: '30 - it's when your body changes.'

That's as much as I got from him.

I'm not sure if I'm going to get taller, grow bulging muscles or something I've yet to expect.

Whatever it is, I hope it's something obvious. That way I can point to those younger than me and explain.

'See these gills? That's what's happening when you turn 30. See these Hobbit-like feet? 30.'

'These dreadlocked mutton chops? 3.0.'

I can but dream.

Hopefully, whatever it is, it'll be sorted before the big day.  

Slim. Trim. Dim.

So where was I?

The past few weeks have been a bit of a blur but, as I keep repeating in my head in some sort of wedding mantra, we're getting there.

The invites are nearly 'good to go' and the health drive? According to the NHS I'm now healthy.

I've lost some weight now, I blame the stairs, but it's a pretty cool thing. I know some will go back on but it's not a bad position to be in. I also bought a jumper in 'small' for the first time since I was... probably three.

It's a weird situation for me. I still think I've got a lot to do until I'm comfortable with my body. I'm not planning on losing much more weight. I just want to stay 'healthy'.

So I'm sorry for being a bit quiet. I've been a busy bee.

Next on the horizon? My 30th. Three decades of whisk(e)y, bad jokes and slightly weird thoughts to look back on and enjoy.
The big 3-0 as I've been told to call it does make you look back, reflect on where you've come from and where you want to go. I'd run off a few more cliches if I had time but they're well known sayings for a reason. There's always that element of truth.

I'm not going to share everything of course, that'd just be unfair on you. I can only imagine the look of horror on your faces if I ran off every wonky wonder I'd had.

Nope, the WTB will be get the worst of it.

Wish her luck.