i find myself, dear reader, within the confines of the most humble indebted gratitude towards a most generous benefactor. this is a benefactor who, for reasons which may or may not perhaps be related to no requirement for revelation of nobility, seeks only anonymity as reward for their exceptional generosity.
around about here i would say "let me explain", but there seems to be little point in doing this. should you wish for an explanation you would, surely, all of you, simply carry on reading and in doing so have the quite reasonable expectation that i would in fact use the time to give such clarification. thus, i shall not state what i shall do and simply get on with it, as this would be highly beneficial in terms of saving time, providing clarity and showing some considerate editing to you.
such is the nature of human life and the ways of our society that i recently had cause to celebrate the coming of another milestone in terms of a birthday. yes, true - if you are a regular reader of this blog you will know i generally tend to measure time in relation to the anniversaries of when i saw Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Tin Machine, the Manic Street Preachers and The Stone Roses. but i do still celebrate birthdays.
kindness in others saw me receive many gifts in celebration of this event. one gift, however, has not been posted here. until now.
yes, dear reader. the above is the mystery gift which has, up until now, not been shown off here. this is in deference to the wishes of the giving benefactor to remain anonymous in some small measure, but mostly due to me simply not getting around to doing a post on the subject.
what is it? why, it is an item from that place which is most beloved of me, Fortnum & Mason. it's not just any old item from them, i shall have you know. no, my mysterious and anonymous benefactor has facilitated it so that Fortnum & Mason have extended an invitation to me, requesting my presence at their most elegant of premises.
an invitation to what, you may ask? it is for me, humble and simple me, to have my beard trimmed and styled by one of their personal grooming stylists. something i believe, as it happens, i am in dire if not consequential need of, looking at this rather recent and somewhat misty lensed image of me, taken within the confines of an elevator located in one of the more prestigious multi storey car parks of a province i frequently frequent.
indeed in the above i am clad if not clothed in the legendary jacket off of the back of Johannesburg taxi rank, the very same which Zama procured for me with some kindness. the very one he assured me would be exceptional and excellent in protecting me from the rain and snow in England, and one which has not been all that much good in doing so as such.
further, yes, that is my sensational and controversial somewhat self-styled 'thug life' beanie that i have on.
the best way to describe my feelings towards the gift at hand is to suggest i am indeed euphoric and ecstatic. for the most part. in my quest and hope for a simple life, it would be a delight to get any item at all bearing the name of Fortnum & Mason, for such a gesture is wonderful. to be presented with an invitation to attend their premises for services is just sensational.
also, dear reader, it is frightening and scary. as in i am terrified of humiliating myself. on the occasions when i have visited them it has taken all my resolve and stamina not to break down in tears, falling to the floor, pleading that i am not worthy of their magnificence and begging them to forgive my intrusion. and now i must seek greater resolve, for i need to walk in and instruct them in the services which they are to avail me of.
i can tell you know that when i go i will just become a stupefied, stuttering shambles of a mess (more so than even usual) and mumble something of how their stylish must just do whatever they feel is appropriate to my beard. it shall be with pride that i will accept that my beard must and should look precisely as any representative of Fortnum & Mason instructs it to be.
one of the most remarkable things about this is that i, simple me, shall be going to have my beard styled at the same place where the aristocracy and the nobility go. not the Royal family, of course, or at least not the proper members. they are not allowed to have beards, to be sure, lest they be mistaken for Catholics, and end up either losing their succession place in line to the throne, or otherwise hung.
when shall i go? hopefully soon. i shall have to arrange a date in which to engage Spiros to do this, which is reliant on a time when he is in London. as the greatest legal mind of his generation, he does tend to roam the world with his skills. whilst he would not require such a service himself ("beards are for twats", he once told me) i have no doubt that he would quite like to come along, as i believe they serve alcohol to patrons, and Piccadilly Circus has plenty of black cab taxi drivers which he may engage in a bout of fisticuffs.
my great thanks again, then, to the benefactor why may not be named. i trust that i shall be able to give the benefactor and all of you and update on how it goes, as and when it happens. obviously there will be no images of the process itself, for one should not do something so vulgar, crass and downright common as take selfies within Fortnum & Mason. except, of course, for those incidents in which i did.
be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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