My challenger may have been testing my willingness to appear vulnerable but this hasn't worked. Modern pyjama tops can hardly be distinguished from shirting. I often answer the doorbell dressed this way to take deliveries from the postman and The Wine Society. Old-fashioned pyjamas, buttoning up top to bottom, might have been more risky. I do, however, look fatter here than in reality and that's mildly embarrassing.
More embarrassing by far is that this is only half of a two-part challenge. The other half requires me to supply an mp3 file that proves I'm making progress with my singing. On this matter I'm more reticent and must continue to witter on, I fear. That's witter, not twitter.
The wristwatch, nicely displayed, is a Longines. It cost lots and was a gift from VR.
Hardline Hope, a novel (18,547 words)
Dinner out with a man she hardly knew; theoretically an enjoyable social occasion, in actuality nothing of the kind; three hours of alertness, self-monitoring, and careful talk. For Gerry was someone senior from Shimatsu’s UK headquarters: “down here to help with your local difficulties” he explained laughingly. That was part of the test; Lindsay was expected to recognise the reference to The Three Great Lies and to laugh in response.
Gerry was authority and when they’d shaken hands at the showroom she’d looked for proof. Decided it showed in his shoes: unexceptional black casuals, plain as plain beyond a front flap that eased back over the top of his foot, slightly longer than might be expected. The leather shone but not to excess since it was patterned by its flexibility. The shoes were comparatively old and he wore them comfortably; they were surely hand-made.
But for the flash reflection (but preferable to the "flash" which might have been apparent with older style pyjamas), we might have entered this for page three of the Sun!
ReplyDelete"The leather shone but not to excess since it was patterned by its flexibility". I liked that. You should become an author, you know.
Oh, I do like the dark piping on the top that matches the bottoms. As the weather gets warmer, do your bottoms get shorter?
ReplyDeleteAvus: I'm not sure you understand the principles on which Page Three is based.
ReplyDeleteRW (zS): At first I thought you'd got hawk's eyes; there is piping on the trews but it's dark red on navy blue - almost invisible. Now I see I misread you. In summer I simply doff the top. In summer in the Languedoc I doff the sheet as well. In summer in Piittsburgh I doffed top, bottom and sheet, sponged my body with cold water, lay down damply on the bed with the fan at full blast, hoping I'd get to sleep before my skin dried.
That belongs in a selfie fail compilation.
ReplyDeleteMikeM: Given the choice I'd prefer to fail with a selfie; it's probably a more elite group.
ReplyDeleteOh.
ReplyDeleteDear.
Was that me?
I do seem to remember, through the fog, jesting on the first topic, though I was dead serious on the second.
And now we all know you are a wizard, with your handy ball of light in hand.
p. s. Your fellow Englishmen are way ahead of you: London's first naked restaurant
ReplyDelete