Yesterday I took the day off work and went shopping in the morning; people in this suburb were certainly angry and I heard a terrible row over a parking space erupt whilst I was en route to Sainsbury's for my Caesar salad and lemonade Friday treat. I checked out good old M&S, since Roger commented on my fashion sense I've been less than impressed by the Classic collection, finding it a little too old for my forty one years. I therefore passed by the viscose/polyester mix skirts and sensible blouses and headed straight for Per Una but decided not to purchase anything as that's a step too far in the other direction if you get my meaning.
As I had some free time in the afternoon I asked Roger if I could sort out the stockroom, he agreed and we set about classifying some of the books he'd bought at a summer fete a couple of weeks ago. Roger was wearing a pale yellow velour tracksuit, I'd like to say that it suited him but that would be a lie as he resembled a huge mis-shapen banana split. He was still riveting company though and hearing his story of how he could have made it big in the fashion world but couldn't travel on public transport which meant that he couldn't take a front row seat at London Fashion Week. Such a shame! Mind you, with his bizarre fashion sense I don't imagine John Galliano is shaking in his shoes (well not about that anyway!)
Polly wafted around the shop dressed in floaty polyester and leggings. I think she's trying to evoke the spirit of Kate Bush, not that Kate's dead of course but she did grow up in this suburb and left as soon as humanly possible, as did every other famous or semi-famous person. Polly said that she's trying the channel the spirit of the late Jim Morrison on Sunday night at the local bapist church; I wish her luck.
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