2047

I imagine I cut a rather eccentric figure walking back dressed in my smartly best, an exceptionally large head of broccoli (carried like a bouquet) in one hand, large green umbrella (upon, again the rain) in the other, beaming because today’s my favourite day of the year – and a good one it’s been – with two exceptions:  the patissier no longer makes my favourite indulgence, and my new DMs* make very loud, very silly noises. (*Doc Marten shoes)