I have just spent the morning in town, doing what I hoped would be the last of the holiday-prep shopping. Sadly, that didn't work out, due to my lack of application and focus, but I got a couple of essentials and picked up my new specs. Shiny-shiny, designery and modern, but not much different or more comfortable than my old ones, I now find. Impulse-buying brings its own penalties.
Then I had a brain-numbing trail round the holiday clothes section of M & S, wondering who buys and dares to wear those day-glo bathing costumes, tops and wash-and-wear sarongs? People who are so scared of getting separated from their loved ones on a crowded beach that they dress in colours that would be visible from the Space Station, let alone the air-sea rescue helicopter?
Anyway, I digress. After a brisk walk home, ready for a cup of tea and a revision of my never-ending shopping list, I took my boots off. And saw that I had gone out in one black boot and one brown.
Inside this sturdy sensible middle aged woman there is a dotty little old lady struggling to get out.
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