I have been growing this moustache, a budding Burt Reynolds number, for a good cause known as Movember.

Charity fundraisers are nothing new to me. In the past, I have taken part in ski races for hospitals, walks for breast cancer, and long distance bike rides for geriatric care.

Unlike in Europe, where serving is often a career rather than a backup plan, American table-waiting remains a bootstrap business, and some of the biggest skeptics of waiter training courses and schools are seasoned servers themselves.

Though sporting a hideous mustache is in no way comparable to the physical pain and mental suffering men with these diseases endure, Movember still forces participants to challenge their manhood on a daily basis. Growing a moustache for men's cancer isn't as feel-good an activity as running a marathon for a cure.

When I'm on my own, I can be negative. I need my friends and family around to help pick me up if I've had a bad qualifying session. I think insecurity plagues a lot of sportspeople.

I don't think you can have any actual idea of what the Royal Family are really like from how they are portrayed in the papers.

My father has a movement that started before us. As his children, we are just the stewards to build on his foundation.

By providing our young children with opportunities for free, child-directed play, along with proper nutrition, we are setting them up for a lifetime of healthy habits, versus interventions needed later in life.