Being on fieldwork presents various opportunities that might not otherwise occur in normality, although one should always consider them carefully before committing, in case they are dangerous, illegal, immoral or all of these combined.

One of these opportunities which I am currently and slowly undertaking is the freedom from nagging with regards to facial hair. As I am at a great distance from people who complain about how it looks messy and scratches, I have decided to grow a beard.

This is something I did last time I was on fieldwork, and something that every man (and some women) should do in their lifetime, for the simple pleasure of slowly shaving it off. After growing a full beard and moustache, you remove it in pieces, leaving you with a sequence flowing from mutton chops and goatee, to a Ming the Merciless beard that can be twiddle in a menacing manner, to a handlebar moustache, ending up with the Hitler smudge on the upper lip before emerging baby-bottom smooth once again. This year I might progress from handlebar to a Errol Flinn type pencil streak of hair, as I think that I might look rather dashing and adventurous. I fear that this might not be the case, but when I do the deed, I may publish some photos so you can judge which amount of facial fluff looks best, and give me reasons never, ever to do it again.

I am quite surprised that I am doing this, given that one of my particular hatreds is kissing men with beards. Having lived previously in a society where men do embrace and kiss each other, I am confident enough in my masculinity to take this comfortable, except when the other has too much facial hair, which gives an unpleasant sensation rather like kissing a sweeping brush. If done several times in the evening (and why not, if you are having fun) this can leave a rash. I always wondered what would happen if two people with more luxuriant facial foliage were to kiss, whether this would produce a Velcro type effect, leading to an awkward social situation where they try to separate themselves, producing that ripping sound. Perhaps if I leave this to grow enough, with any luck I might find out.