I was very proud of the shirt, a short-sleeved blue and orange check, not at all the sort of thing I normally bought.
My mistake was wearing it to work on Friday.
"You look like you've been run over by a paint truck." said Mikey over the first pint of the weekend.
"Don't say that!"
"No, it's nice." he grinned. "You should be presenting an art show on kid's TV in that."
On Monday, to make him feel guilty, I told him I'd taken it to the charity shop.
"Good." he said.
I hadn't. But I haven't worn it since.
Train Aria - A Story - Dressed, head to foot, in grey jersey cotton, she sticks out like a sore thumb on the early commuter train. Jogging pants are not De Rigeur for most of...
2 weeks ago