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Final score…

So it’s official.
The votes have been counted, the totals tallied and the ‘taches tittivated.

Faces have been palmed, donations handed in and awards handed out.
Posts have been polled, opinions have been opined and I will finally feature a physiognomy free from facial fungus.

That’s right, it’s results time folks and first of all I’d like to doff one final congratulatory cap towards Mr Adam Pain for organising such a top event last weekend.

Only today A World Of Pain posted a message of thanks to all those involved which I have his kind permission to reproduce here.

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Next up is Movember.
I’d like to thank everyone who has donated money or posted words of encouragement, and to pay tribute to fellow Mo Bros and Mo Sistas whose sheepish thumbs-up whilst indicating their own top lip topiary has become the international salute of Team Movember.

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My own modest campaign has made £70, contributing to a worldwide total to date (involving 964,862 fundraisers) that has reached the astounding sum of, get this, £54,241, 979!

Amazing effort all round I think you’ll agree, one that will allow charities around the world to continue the good work they do in the research and treatment of prostate cancer and other men’s health issues.

Oh, and special mention to honorary Mo Sista and Diary of an Internet Nobody Movember mascot, Queen Audrey of Michigan.

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Which brings me to the results of the first Readers Choice Award for most popular blog post.

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I wasn’t sure what to expect when I decided to try polling my readers to find out their top three favourite posts.
What I found is that people like reading but they don’t like voting, so I had to put together a shortlist myself.
I would have liked to have got a few more people engaged in voting, but I’m happy with the result none the less.

Drum roll please.

With 27% of the vote, the runaway winner of my first ever blog poll is Dog days. (occasional tales of life with my people)… the episodic life stories of our much-missed dog Karla, told from her own unique perspective.

A fitting result, as it is almost exactly two years ago that we lost her, and one which has prompted me to “translate” another chapter of her memoirs for my next post.

Karla loved being made a fuss of, so I’m sure she would have appreciated all the attention from her new fans.
I can just see her happy little face now…

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I shall leave the poll on the Greatest hits… page active for a while, just in case anyone new to the blog fancies checking out the others on the list.

So that’s about it, thank you again to all who got involved and watch out for my review of the year, coming soon…

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The Movemberists – ‘Tache for cash…

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Every November there is a marked increase in the number of male faces sporting hirsute growths about the upper lip area.
A veritable plethora of furry philtrums in fact.

This outbreak of creative shaving is in support of the Movember Foundation, set up in 2004 to raise awareness of prostate cancer and to raise funds for the research and treatment of this and other men’s health issues.

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Participants start November clean shaven and collect sponsorship to grow a moustache for the whole month. The ‘tache can be any style but must stand alone, unconnected to any other facial hair such as beards or sideburns.

This will be the third year that we have got involved at work, prone as we are to looking silly for charity. This was last year’s model…

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..I went for the dignified Brigadier look.

This year I’m going to try the upside down horseshoe of hair that is described by the Movember style guide as the “Trucker” but I prefer to think of it as the “Villain” or possibly the “Bandito”.

On day 2 there is barely a hint of what’s to come, but it’s early days yet..

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I have set up a page on the Movember site for people to leave donations and where I shall post update photos so you can see what you’re getting for your money, so to speak.

THIS GREAT BIG, REALLY OBVIOUS LINK WILL TAKE YOU TO MY PAGE.

Thank you, every little helps.

 
21 Comments

Posted by on November 2, 2013 in Charity, Personal anecdote, Social comment

 

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Saying F.U. to the big C…

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Movember is almost upon us again, raising money for men’s health in general and prostate cancer in particular. 
We shall once again be participating at work and I would encourage those of you with the ability to grow the requisite facial adornment to take part too.
So expect all manner of fabulous face fungus to start appearing on a top lip near you soon.
You can donate here.

Which brings me rather neatly to the topic of this Diary entry.

Once again I am writing in response to a post by the ever-reliable Adam Pain who has bestowed a great accolade on me. More about that later…

First I’d like to share an expanded version of the comment I left on Adam’s blog this morning, the subject of which is losing loved ones to cancer;

I clearly remember my brother in law turning up on the doorstep at our new home in Devon at 4.30am, having driven the 300 miles from the London hospital where Dad had been taken after collapsing at a business function due to the unseen and spreading tumours in his lungs, brain and spine.
We raced back there, thinking we might be too late, getting there just as he regained consciousness.
As it turned out, he lasted long enough to be given the news that my sister was pregnant with his grandson and for us all to have a last chance to say goodbye.

Seeing the rapid and merciless way the cancer had devoured his usually imposing frame, it was hard to believe this was the same upbeat and positive man who had told me “Oh, don’t you worry, we’re going to beat this” only a few weeks previously.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t my first taste of dealing with the most indiscriminate of killers.

I was just nine when Mum was struck down by a brain tumour, forever leaving me with the image of her dropping to the floor in convulsions, incoherently repeating a bizarre litany made up entirely of numbers.

A frightening experience for a little boy, as you can imagine.
But not as frightening as the look on Dad’s face a few short months later (which with hindsight I now know to have been helpless grief) as he came into my room and, kneeling next to my bed as I roused myself from sleep, told me that he was sorry, but mummy had “just got weaker and weaker, until she couldn’t hold on any more and she died.”

He was sorry.
As if he could have done anything to save this wonderful, gentle woman from the treacherous mutation of her own cells.
Even now the irrational, impotent anger I feel towards the nebulous and malign enemy who took my mother from my sister and I can return unbidden, when I see her in old photos or hear a song she liked on the radio.

She didn’t smoke, she had an active, healthy lifestyle, and yet she was just as helpless to defend herself against this attack from within as any twenty-a-day tobacco fiend.

We were all lucky enough to have a final, carefree French camping holiday with her in the months following her initial illness and operation, when it all seemed like some sort of terrifying bad dream, only to lose her to subsequent complications when the tumour returned.

So many people’s lives are touched by cancer, hardly anybody is unaffected in some way.

Elaine and I spent many days caring for Elaine’s father (with the help of the extremely dedicated Macmillan nurses) as he became increasingly ill, his eventual passing being all the more painful for Elaine as we were so far away at the time.
And we lost a very dear friend only a few years ago who was, shockingly, younger than me and had always instantly been the absolute life and soul of every party she walked into.

Cancer doesn’t give a toss who it takes, it doesn’t care about your feelings. We’re all potential victims and should therefore take whatever opportunities are offered to join the fight to defeat the silent killer.

Well I’ve done a fair bit in the past to raise money for charity (although like all those saintly celebrities, “I don’t like to talk about it”) and I’m about to get involved in something just as worthy, but a lot more fun than lumbering around the moors in the middle of the night or dressing up like a gay Native American at work.

I am incredibly honoured to reveal that I am to be attending the Golden Face Palms, Adam Pain’s award ceremony for the über-numpties that spoilt everyone’s year by stubbornly continuing to exist.
The deal is that I go to the event, (ticket details to follow – you too can attend this prestigious occasion) accept the award for the particular dullard I nominated for inclusion, and mumble a few short words of acceptance through the haze of alcohol, jostling paparazzi and groupies. (at least I’m reasonably sure that’s how these things go) and try not to fall over on the way back to my table.

Adam has written a very poignant and touching article to accompany the announcement of the ceremony and I would take it as a personal favour if, having taken the time read my post, you also go to A World Of Pain via THIS REALLY BIG, OBVIOUS LINK and see what he has to say.
That is where you can find details of the Golden Face Palms themselves.

(You can also donate to the Macmillan Cancer Care Trust via the Macmillan link above)

 
12 Comments

Posted by on October 27, 2013 in Awards, Blogging, Personal anecdote

 

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