In keeping with the previous theme, I have been donning my little red riding hood in recent weeks. Except it is more like my little red, three-quarter-length sleeved, shawl-collared, woolen, vintage coat. With brooch and jaunty scarf. One has to move with the times, doncha know.
Anyhow, there is nothing quite like sauntering or, indeed, moseying about the streets of London in my striking sartorial cocoon, matching the double-decker buses and telephone boxes in A Very British Manner. Tightly belted at the waist, hands plunged in pockets, I am ready to take on any wolf that should happen upon me in the metropolis.
It is a coat made for those impromptu and oh-so cultural outings. Mooching in the Sainsbury Wing of the National Gallery on a Sunday for example. Glorifying at the gold-flecked embellishments adorning Virgin upon sweet-faced Virgin, Christ upon crucified Christ. Staring agog at the transporting, beautiful, characterful visions that I sometimes fall into within my subconscious. Me defeating the devil, a la St Michael. Me flying with the beautifully dressed angels...
And so must the coat takes me from the Sainsbury Wing to Sainsbury's. But in style.
Glorifying at the lurid chocolate bar wrappers covering biscuit upon crunchy biscuit, caramel finger upon chewy caramel finger. Staring agog as I wait in the megalosaurian queue and try to politely ignore the overly friendly or sinisterly silent staff. This commercial institution holds almost as many wonders as the mystically blue-toned wing of the gallery. Two long custard doughnuts, dusted with icing sugar and bursting with glistening yellow goo, for £1.09 (Why that 9p? Why such an awkward figure? So as to use up all those pesky coppers of course. The genius of these doughnuts knows no bounds) are just one of the gems bejewelling the harsh-lighted cavern.
Gallery to keep my mind intelligent, alert and open in order to be prepared for wily wolf attacks. Supermarket to fill my basket with sustaining goodies to take to 'Granny' (or myself, or poverty stricken students of my acquaintance). Little Red Woolen Coat. That's me.
3 comments:
Megal.....what? Is this a trick piece to show your education's not being wasted!
Megalosaurian - it means of megalosaurus (as in the dinosaur) proportions. Found in Dickens I'll have you know.
Also, just so you know, there is a character named Michael Jackson in Bleak House. There's a bit of trivia for you. Love it. Money well spent, I say!
Well I am glad to see you are enjoying culture while adorning your little shoulders with ever more elegant vintage clothing while i am told by accaintances of mine that my lovely vintage velvet smoking jacket is first of all, a blazer and second of all not real velvet ( ? i wasnt aware there was such a thing as imitation velvet ? ) and third of all they don't belive it's authenticity of vintageness. Blasphemey i say. However, these people are mere friends and not as educated and cultered as we are.
Nicky.
P.S Mother, even i new what megalosaurian means. I mean seriosly. Literary type my ****
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