About this blog

This is a window into the weird world of Anglicanism, as experienced on a Cathedral Close. Has anything much happened since Trollope's Barchester Chronicles? You will still see the 'canon in residence' hurrying across to choral Evensong, robes flapping, as the late bell chimes. But look carefully and you will notice he is checking the football score on his iPhone as he runs. This is also a writer's blog. It charts the agony and ecstasy of the novelist's life. And it's a fighter's blog. It charts the agony and ecstasy of the judo mat. Well, the agony, anyway.

Sunday, 12 February 2012

DAY 43--The Leather Biker Jacket

Well, the velvet jacket was snapped up within 40mins of my tweeting about it.  That 40mins was long enough for me to picture people frowning in polite disdain at the thought of accepting a third hand jacket from me.  I was particularly pleased that it was bagged by a young person.  What greater accolade could be bestowed on a 50 year old, than that someone young enough to be her daughter (?granddaughter? Oh, banish that monstrous thought!) sees potential merit and stylishness in her wardrobe?  She tells me she will be handing on a Dorothy Perkins skirt to a skinnier friend.  There.  A nice virtuous chain has been established.

Today I've been wearing my biker jacket.  I was having another go at the long-tailed shirt look, and I believe I pulled it off rather better today.  The reason for today's look was the urge to wear a hat.  Well, not some much urge to wear a hat as urge not to wash my hair.  The hat in question is a sort of peaked beret, which has a slight steamer captain vibe going on.  It works well with the leather jacket.  I teamed it with pockets stuffed with tissues and cough sweets and sat rather glumly through the 10.30 service.  I hate February.

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