The passing of hours
They passed slowly today. Simply disappeared in the service of others. Once again, I trawled the dismal streets of M looking for some decent clothes for Sunny. They were all rejected. He prefers to look like a walking bill board advertising Reebok, Adidas or Tommy Hilfiger. SuperDry has long since become unfashionable. How fickle fashion is. And how ugly. I try to coach him in the way of clean lines, no words, shirt collars, high collars on coats, good cuts, straight trousers, smart shoes that click, straight backs and hair that does not turn up in a quiff. I do not succeed. The classic look is out. Sunny prefers to look like a new version of the Teddy Boys. I guess he’ll grow out of it. We only bought him one pair of trousers as a result.
In the mean time Ma sat here, passing her hours as she does every day: on the sofa with a rug over her. She sifts listlessly through The Week, napping now and then, getting up to eat, walking three times round the garden. I suggest an outing to see the medieval churches of RM but she doesn’t want to go. Maybe another day.