Sunday, March 7, 2021

THE HAIRY-FACED

In Lockdown, I feel we should spend all this spare time on something useful. Were I younger, I would take up bridge-playing, learning Chinese or unlock the mysteries of Yoga, but I am not really someone who likes to break into a sweat or stretch my feeble intellect too far. Two days ago, I signed in to an Oxford webinar all about fake news, conspiracy theories and prejudiced media but it was a bit clever for me as it discussed at length something called QAnon, which is not on my radar. I retired hurt but partly enlightened.

But in time I found an ideal occupation. I am a Beard Grower, and am presently working hard on coaxing my untidy bristle into a well-managed Van Dyck ensemble. Eventually I will favour you with a photograph, but at present the beard is growing rather slowly and I look decidedly scruffy like one of those sad dossers who used to grace the environs of Waterloo Station, huddled in cardboard boxes. I do not need to make any great effort to chivvy along my beard, but I suppose I could look hard at the floor and clench my cheeks, but somehow, I doubt if it would make much difference. So, when Census Day arrives very soon on 21 March, I can enter under Occupation, the answer Beard Grower or even the grander Pogonologist – much more dynamic than the more conventional, if accurate, Retired Venture Capitalist.

My classically educated readers will all remember the Byzantine emperor Constans II Pogonatos (The Bearded) 630-668 AD, who was kept busy fighting the Moslem hordes.

                                      


A Solidus coin of Constans II Pogonatos

The Byzantines were fond of nicknames, not always complimentary. Thus Constantine V was known as Copronymos (The Dung-Named), after, as an infant, he defecated into his baptismal font, and further North the Icelandic warrior Herjolf was dubbed Hrokkineista (The Wrinkled Scrotum}, poor chap.

Returning to beards, I look forward to the 6 Nations rugby match on 14 March between Scotland and Ireland at Murrayfield, Edinburgh. I support my native Scotland, who have not won against Ireland for some time; Scotland can do it if they show the tactical nous and technical efficiency they demonstrated so impressively against England to win the Calcutta Cup on 6 February. No firm team selections yet but both sides have formidable bearded candidates – Josh Strauss for Scotland and Gordon D’Arcy for Ireland


   

           Josh Strauss                                Gordon D'Arcy


            As a Scotsman, my thoughts have also been stimulated by the appearance of First Minister Nicola Sturgeon before an investigating committee of the Scottish Parliament. I am not a fan and, while the 6-hour session was gruelling, I was not impressed by the political amnesia claimed by Nicola. Her evasive fanaticism is not attractive.

Beards are not political, though the great and the good in Victorian England (Ruskin, Dickens, Darwin, Tennyson et al) all sported one. Lord Salisbury, Prime Minister at the turn of the century, with a huge beard like a spade, was the last premier to do so.  I worry that my beard, which will be white and flowing, may turn out as looking similar to that of my bête noire, erstwhile Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn.


Jeremy Corbyn

If, by any chance, I start to spout Leftist claptrap or make wokeish pronouncements, blame the beard – I will shave it off immediately!

SMD

7.03.21

Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2021

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