Made In Hull: Stories 1969 - 2005 Part 2 (1/3) By Rich Mills

(1/3), (2/3), (3/3), Part 1,

Beard Theory (Hull College, Queens Gardens)

Much of the lower half of his face was carpeted with a dense mat of short-cropped wire. Stroking his hand across his chin, he evoked a long distant memory of adolescent profundity. Another's name floated into his mind, Pat, he'd always thought that was a girl's name, short for Patricia. However Pat was also the name of his former college lecturer, from when he was eighteen and a serious candidate for a future career in computer geekdom. Pat he assumed was short for Patrick in this case, although this gruff real ale drinking bearded monster was always just known as Pat.

The Christ of computers, the Messiah of machine code, he even worn Jesus sandals to class in all weather conditions. Although it has to be said that they didn't look particularly out of place when seen in context with the rest of the ensemble he regularly wore.

Safari shorts, and short sleeved shirt went well with the impressive philosopher's beard. The mere sight of this slightly deranged eccentric biking around the college campus filled him with awe. From that point onwards Rich had wanted a career as a mad academic, eccentricity giving him the power to be whom he wanted without painful condemnation from others for being 'different'. So his first step was to grow a beard, as many others seemed to be doing in the class at that time. They wandered from classroom to classroom, like some bizarre facial hair collective.

The rasping noise of chins being rubbed echoed through the corridors, as they all settled in to an inspirational speech from their mentor. He stroked his beard, no short sharp rubbing motion for him.

No, this was a long and considered stroking action. Anticipation brought about silence and the great man spoke, "Do you know why men with beards sit and stroke them?" As he posed this unusual question he continued to preen his impressive mane, the young cubs stopped scratching at their weak growths, conscious of their vulnerability and lack of power in this hairy jungle that Pat ruled over. No one answered. No one wanted to fall prey, becoming another victim tangled up in the thick wiry undergrowth. So silence reigned supreme and the question bounced back to its source, having attained a rhetorical aspect on the return journey.

Another sensual slide of his hand gave visual focus for the answer that came, "Because it feels like stroking a woman's pussy." All hands clasped to hairy chins confirmed this hypothesis, establishing a theory of beards that holds a lot of empirical truth for Rich even to this day. Facial hair in one form or another had become part of Rich's identity since that revelation, it has become part of who he is as much as any other physical feature that combined to create the flipped image he examines in the mirror every morning. Stroking his chin, thinking of pussy.

Continued ...next page(2/3),

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