Well, after allowing people to vote yea or nay on the whole facial hair question for a week, the results were as follows:

Quite a few people suggested going the goatee. Given her stance on this issue, this might have been all my sister’s friends, I don’t know.

It should be noted at this point that no matter what the results, I was never intending to blindly follow the advice of you freaks and lunatics who go a-surfing through my Web page. No, the decision will be mine, and not much correspondence will be entered into. It’s my face, my decision.

Don’t feel betrayed. Don’t despair. Your opinion is important. Your opinion does matter. Just not to me.

The whole vote thing was just a bit of fun. I’m sure you understand. Just a ploy used in my never-ending quest to help people waste their time.

I won’t decide quite yet anyway. My sister’s boyfriend John, who having ventured into the world of hairydom knows about such matters, recommends leaving it at least four weeks before making a decision. As I’m at three and a half weeks now, I may as well wait just one more week before the choice gets made.

I have to say though - it’s not looking good for the beard. Maybe the itching will fade, but I’m still not sure I like the look or feel of it. Mind you, if it counts - and I’m sure there are many who would say that it does - my wife likes it.

The oddest thing is looking down past your nose, and seeing a tuft of hair that you’re still not used to. And yes, I have unintentionally caught food in it. That alone may tip the scales in favour of going back to shaving. It’s a difficult thing to describe, but in its own little way, it was a truly revolting experience.

It’s now been two and a half weeks since I shaved. The resulting beard is still merrily growing. I’m still not sure if I want to keep it, so I’ll probably give it at least a few more days before I decide to shave it off or not.

It’s a big decision to make - whether or not to keep this strange growth of hair on your face. So, in the interests of a healthy world democracy, I let people vote on it for a week. See the results below.

Meanwhile, after thinking about it for ages and ages and ages and ages, I finally booked my next overseas trip on Friday. I’m off to Europe (the U.K., Belgium and France, to be precise) in September. Off to gallivant around with just a backpack and a Lonely Planet guide for company.

Yes, that’s right, the rest of the family is staying home. For some reason they can’t see what’s so great about being hungry and shivering in a cold wet damp Youth Hostel for 4 weeks.

No, seriously, we talked about it. Travel with young children can be severely unfun. The memory of Isaac’s vomit flying around the car on our last trip down the Great Ocean Road is not one that will fade quickly. (Some of the stains didn’t fade quickly either). Travelling a lot is just not something that kids find very enjoyable. So it was decided that since I really want to go, I’ll be going alone.

I’m still working out exactly what I want to see - but since I’ve never been before, it’ll all be new. I’ll definitely track down the English rellies, and drop in on friends in Brussels and try to hunt down sites of significance to a Tintin-ophile such as myself.

I wonder… is someone who really likes The X-Files called an X-Filophile? Is someone who really likes Filofaxes called a Filofaxophile?

Meanwhile, the car broke down yesterday. I knew I should have done something about the lack of acceleration I’d noticed. L was out driving yesterday with a friend and suddenly noticed a complete lack of any acceleration whatsoever. So the car’s in the garage, and I’m back on the tram and train going to work for a few days.

Gives me a chance to keep reading that Lonely Planet book…

Well, the beard continues to grow. Not really what you’d call a full beard yet, but getting there. The weird bit is looking in the mirror, and taking a second or two to realise it’s you. And whenever I’m at my desk, leaning on my chin, I end up fondling it.

I’ll keep it for the moment, let it grow another week, then decide. Unless I spot a grey hair - in that case, I may just freak out and immediately shave the whole thing into oblivion.

…Meanwhile…

Somehow I never thought that plucking nose hair could be quite as painful as it’s reputed to be. From time to time I’ve used a pair of tweezers we have in the house which are extremely good for plucking, to take out various rogue hairs that I’ve noticed on my face just after shaving.

This morning, I was just making sure the beard hadn’t sprouted anywhere it shouldn’t, when I noticed the alarming length of some of my nose hair. Okay, so it’s not actually flowing out of my nostrils and joining the moustache, but it’s definitely visible.

I thought I could see a few loose hairs, and wondered what would happen if I tried to pluck them. My hand, with the tweezers, moved up towards them. I gripped a couple of the hairs and… pull.

Oh, shit! Oh, fucking hell! Jesus Christ!

I’m sorry if you feel offended by this use of coarse language, but if you’ve ever tried plucking your own nostril hair, you’ll know it’s entirely justified. Saying "Gosh, that hurt quite a lot", just doesn’t cut it.

The term "pain" is barely adequate to describe the sensation. It’s more like an urgent emergency crisis signal, sent direct to the brain, then out again to all parts of the body. A bit like a tiny epileptic attack, the whole body goes into a little spasm, and you spend the next ten minutes asking yourself why you were so stupid to even try it.

Needless to say, I won’t be trying that again in a hurry.

This long weekend, I’ve taken my wife’s suggestion and left the shaver in the drawer. I’m trying out life with a beard.

Not much of a beard, yet, I hasten to add. At the moment it just looks like a severe case of non-designer stubble. I guess provided it doesn’t look too hideous tomorrow morning when I have to go back to work, I won’t shave it off. Let it keep growing until I have a reasonable-sized hairy mass on my face, and I can judge whether or not I want to keep it.

There’s nothing I’d like better than to get a picture to post up on this web page to show the world the progress of this facial hair invasion, but the video camera has broken down yet again. So I can’t. You’ll just have to imagine, if you feel so inclined.

With a week to go until the Queensland elections, here’s my blatant unsolicited political opinion: Put Hanson’s One Nation last.

Why? Why do I dislike her so much? It’s not so much her winning combination of complaining about how bad things are but not providing any practical suggestions for fixing anything… it’s not her downright bloody stupid opinions about gun control, native rights, welfare, multiculturalism and the price of fish… it’s not her managing almost single-handedly to stir up racist sentiment all around the country…

Nope, it’s that bloody snivelling whiny voice of hers! The way it starts to break up the moment she’s under any kind of pressure because someone has dared to doubt any of her most doubtful statements. She sounds like she’s going to burst into tears if she doesn’t get her way.

So put Hanson last. Keep whiny, whingeing, stupid people out of parliament.

It’s always a bit alarming when people I work with start reading my Web page (hi Rishi). So much for slagging them all off. Not that I would, of course, they’re all a superb bunch of people. Honest.

A week or two ago the radio show I listen to on the way home, Martin Molloy on Fox, started a new segment, called "What’s Up Yer Bum", where people ring up and shout about things that annoy them. Most amusing it is too, but it’s kind of a shame, because it replaced a segment called "Nutbags", where people rung up and talked about weirdos they’d met. I had a story I was going to ring in with.

It’s about one of my neighbours. Of course, there’s always the danger that he’ll read it here, because we’ve spotted him surfing the Net in the local library on a few occasions. But what the hell.

One night I’d just got home from work, and was about to walk inside when he said in his loud voice "Hello!" Despite my best efforts, he started to talk to me about what he called the "X-Files Conspiracy", and his theory that the Jews have a pact with an alien race.

Uh huh. I don’t watch the X-Files, but now I wonder what the plot was about that week.

A couple of days later, he explained to my wife how he’d invented a new version of the Cathode Ray Tube, and that this exciting development would slash the cost of high definition TV.

Uh huh. Probably just a co-incidence that there’d been a story about the cost of high definition TV in the paper that morning.

Definitely one for Nutbags. If only Tony and Mick were interested anymore.