Movember

November seems to be a popular month for causes and organisations. There’s NaNoWriMo, which always seemed slightly crazy to me. I mean, cool, write a novel, but why try to do it in one month? Won’t that result in a piece of work which is rushed and seriously sub-par? There’s also NaBloPoMo. which is slightly better, but still seems like a way to force substandard content out…

The greatest incarnation of November is undoubtedly Movember. Across multiple countries, men unite under a single cause, returning to the seventies by growing (or, rather, trying to grow) a nice, thick moustache in support of Prostate Cancer Awareness, and general man-ness.

I wasn’t planning on taking part. While a keen observer, and supporter of the cause (the world needs more facial hair, and less prostate cancer) I had already cultivated a rather stunning beard / goatee which had taken a good amount of time - I didn’t relish the idea of shaving a good part of it off, or even starting afresh for a month.

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But then everything changed. Or should I say, my mind got changed for me.

New Zealand invades France…

…defaces local landmark.

Seriously though, this marketing campaign by NZ Tourism is one hell of a way to get noticed.

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It’s an inflatable marquis, which is going to be used to hold ‘Government Functions’ during the Rugby World Cup. Some evenings the government representatives will be getting pissed elsewhere, so interested parties can hire it for a private function for 5000 euros. Somehow, the mayor of Paris gave Helen and the Tourism folks permission to put it up on the lawn in front of the Eiffel Tower! Rugby fans do odd things some times…

Where shall we have the office party this year? Inside a giant inflatable rugby ball of course!

Blood has been spilled this night.

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Watching the news last night, they run a segment telling of how there was going to be a full eclipse at around 10 pm, likely resulting in a Red Moon.

I get prodded in the stomach.

“Can we watch?”

Yeah alright.

It should be easy. I mean, we’re up on a hill, higher than most places. There’s not too much cloud cover. We should get a stunning view.

10 o’clock rolls around, and we head outside to have a look.

Thwarted!

The trees got there before us, taking all the good high spots. And they somehow convinced their friends the clouds to come have a look too, completely obscuring any view for us.

Just like when that dude with the afro/mullet sat in front of me at the Pink Floyd Experience.

Bastards.

Still, from the photos I’ve seen on various sites, it looked absolutely stunning.