Now that November is upon us I thought about getting involved in this moustache-growing festival known as Movember whereby you make yourself look ridiculous in order to raise money for a good cause.
I may have mentioned this before, but I’m not very good at growing facial hair, particularly on my upper lip. So weak are the hairs on my top lip that a good shower of rain would take them off. I maintain that my dad is to blame for hoarding all the moustache-genes among the Cousins males.
I attempted to grow a beard a couple of years ago, but only to make the most out of a male grooming voucher I’d been given as a birthday present.
I thought if I was growing a moustache for a good cause maybe I’d stand a better chance of succeeding. Or to put it another way, I fancied that fundraising could finagle my follicles to feature more favourably on my face.
I informed Karen of my plans to fuzz up. She politely reminded me she was due to give birth any day now and that it would be a cold day in hell when she allowed her husband to be photographed with his newborn child sporting a very hungry caterpillar on his upper lip.
Fair point well made.
Null and void
Last Wednesday at dinner time I made personal darting history. While playing darts against my dad I hit my first ever ‘Witnessed 180’.
I’ve hit two 180s before, but I’ve been on my own in the garage and even though I’ve dragged Karen out to take photographs with the darts still smoking, it doesn’t really prove anything unless you’ve seen them hit the board.
So on Wednesday I was overjoyed by the fact that, not only had I hit three treble 20s in a row, but I had a witness to verify it.
I knew the first dart had hit the treble 20 and I needed dad to tell me if the second dart had also found the red bit. He said it was in, but he didn’t sound that convincing so I took it that he was winding me up. This meant I’d no pressure on the third dart so I didn’t really think too hard before throwing it.
When I checked the board, sure enough all three darts had found the treble and I was the proud hitter of one-hundred-and-eighty. I clenched my fist and gave a loud roar.
Then I checked my score prior to the 180 and realised I’d only required 157.
I’d just bust my score in the most spectacular fashion imaginable and rendered the 180 null and void. In footballing terms I’d scored an overhead kick into my own net. In golfing terms I’d holed a 20-metre putt with someone else’s ball. In motor racing terms I’d set a new lap record driving the wrong way wrong the course.
When I returned to the oche I’d have to go back to 157 again.
I’d been looking forward to calling upon my dad as a witness to my darting prowess. Now when he’s asked if he’s ever seen me hit 180 he’ll say, “No, but I once saw him make a right mess of taking out 157.”
Driving home her point
My mum thinks my dad needs glasses for driving.
I’m sitting on the fence for this argument, but I will share you with a short tale from a couple of weeks ago and let you draw your own conclusions...
My dad was driving myself, Karen and my mum to Armagh for a meal in Uluru - an amazing Australian restaurant in the centre of the city. On the way there he drew our attention to bright lights up ahead on our left.
“The planetarium looks busy tonight,” he said.
The three of us looked out the window to observe Armagh Planetarium, which, somewhat inconsiderately had been replaced by an Emo petrol station.
That was around about the time my mum raised the point about him needed driving glasses.
The answer to last week’s teaser was: OHIO - the US state that’s round at both ends and high in the middle.
Here’s this week’s teaser: Three greyhounds of varying speeds are lined up for a race. The first dog can run two laps in a minute, the second dog can run three laps in a minute and the third dog can run four laps in a minute. If all three dogs start at the same time how long will it be before all the greyhounds pass the starting line together again?