If I simply report this:
Yesterday morning when I was dressing, I discovered that my favourite skirt has finally bitten the dust. It had worn so thin in the seat that it has suddenly yielded multiple holes and ladders. It was a Laura Ashley skirt, in a wonderful indigo and off white print. Soft, fluid cotton, full and swirling aboutÂ my ankles – and comfortably elasticated at the waist. With two pockets. It has served as my perfect and favourite garment for sixteen years.
I shall mourn that skirt. How shall I ever replace it?
It was while I was pondering these thoughts that a new and terrible one came to the forefront: I had worn that skirt the day before and I had gone out in it.
Stop and think: Holes all over my bum, and glaring white pants beneath.
Now, if I tell you that, despite that awfulness, my day continued in a downward spiral of events and stress….
… we can just leave it there, can’t we? You imagine it and that will save all the time and trouble of my writing, and your possible reading, of a long litany of boring troubles.
Just imagine. . .