Chin Chin

I was allowed to slip away early from work on Wednesday afternoon due to the bad weather and to cut a long story short ended up in the village pub with the wife having a quick sherry. Well, four hours laters we were trotting home drunk as lords and very light in purse. Oh what a wonderful lost afternoon we had. I met a remarkable lady train driver, two star crossed lovers (an american lady who has to go back to America on Monday to sort a visa so she can return and marry her companion a man many years her junior!)and some men of the woods - hunting, shooting types who are going to teach me how to kill pheasants with my bare hands and put up a bivouac in an inclement wind. Honestly.
It was marvellous but we can't do it too often, if we did the wife and I will be singing the Fairytale of New York by Easter.

I've always been a bit of a stranger to the world of glamour, I tend to be left at the docks as the fashion boat leaves port and I'm a follower of the famous quote "Distrust any enterprise that requires new clothes" so I love any opportunity which requires one to look like the back end of a bus. So it was this morning. The ice age cometh and with heavy snow and a walk to work in the offing I stepped out of the door bundled up in hat, boots and knitwear. You could not tell if I was man, woman or beast but to an educated eye I would possibly pass as a cross between Arthur Scargill and Uncle Bulgaria.
However, as I trudged along I met a lady in fur hat, matching gloves and coat, natty boots and drifts of foundation on her chops. She looked remarkably out of place as she negotiated the icy wastelands of the home counties. She did not look the type that walked anywhere but lord knows she had an outfit for it.