A short story by a good friend of mine, who has the annoying habit of being somewhat of a renaissance man. Poet, author, inspirer of the young, medium fast bowler and pacy midfielder. In short, a smug git, but a git I love dearly.
If you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit those clothes don’t suit you. However, until you know who you are anyway, no clothes ever will and so they’ll have to do.
Your appointment is at noon. High noon. Well, actually it’s ten past, but you like to get there early, so are actually aiming for ten to. Just to be on the safe side.
You have time to change but what’s the point? Choosing clothes is like taking part in a quiz. No matter how many times you change your mind, the first answer’s always the most likely to be right. Only when it comes to fashion, this is a University Challenge maths round and all you have is a best guess of ‘4?’
You pass the time by engaging in a stare-out competition with your own reflection. You lose every time. Both of you.
Just what is it you’re supposed…
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