I nearly grew a beard yesterday.

We were in a pub in London on Saturday (The Lyceum Tavern on The Strand), it's very nice, full of old wooden panels and sort of cubby holes to sit in. More like railway compartments I suppose except they weren't totally enclosed and you could hear what the people in the next compartment were saying. Neither of us could believe the conversation we were unwillingly eavesdropping to!
Two blokes, one probably my age the other younger sat talking about sausages.........(oh matron!) how many they'd eat and how many the children would get and when they'd finish the packet. It became one of those bloody inane conversations that unless you sat there with your fingers in your ears you couldn't but listen to. The next topic of conversation was rough skin on your feet, well the best way to get rid of it, according to dumb and dumber, is to put lotion on your feet then cover them in cling film.........That was it! We finished our drinks and left, thank Buddha I never indulge in such rubbish, so I thought.
Talking over the dinner table next day with Oliver & Tara I mentioned that I nearly grew a beard yesterday. What!?  So I explained that I hadn't taken my electric razor with me when we went to London for the weekend and didn't shave on Saturday, but then on Sunday morning I used a wet shave instead. And I reckon I don't talk crap! I can still hear their laughter!