And no trousers.
Monday, July 05, 2010
The Boulevard of Broken Dreams
A vision of loveliness assails me on the way into work. Passing through the bus station I managed to avoid any eye contact with the elderly chap in the black blazer, black Homberg and white plimsolls.
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6 comments:
I wonder if his name was Donald?
Perhaps he's been on the beer the night before.
My first husband, the night after the sort of dinner party we had in the sixties - buckets of alc - found himself on the train to London suited and booted, shirt and tie but no collar - he wore the stiff starched ones as a rule
Was he a vicar?
Happy Frog and you: I thought you were supposed to be only young. Your cultural references betray you. (-;
Pat: no hat? The bounder!
Madame DeF: no, he didn't have the shins for it.
Uh oh... another of my escapees
nursemyra: the whole bloody borough is one of your escapees...
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