Nay, bonnie lasses... it's not about me. I'm not that old... barely passed the first flush of youth (in my mind's eye). The poem was inspired by a mate of mine who recently retired. He always wanted to grow a beard, but his job demanded that he was neat and tidy all the time. During his working life, he could never find enough spare weeks to go through the scruffiness necessary for growing a decent beard.

 

Then, when he retired, he finally got the chance to grow that beard. He then declared that he was growing it in order to get a part time job as Santa. Not sure how he got on, because I've lost touch with him now. I must seek him out again.... I need to stop burning so many bridges in my life.

 

Funny how these poems develop from random remarks and take on a life of their own.

 

Take care and have a good Christmas both (if I don't catch you again).