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she looked at me

She looked at me, my wife of over 55 years, the mother of our two daughters, grandmother of five, great grandmother of one and she said you cannot go out looking like that … like that?

Like what?

Going out is walking down River Street in a pair of very old jeans and ragged t-shirt to buy a sushi lunch, the morning’s newspaper, a refill of dental glue for the plastic teeth, a lottery ticket and a quiet word with Stuey who runs the paper shop and has already heard the doomsday footsteps of his coming darkness .. being of a suspect heart condition and carrying way too much weight for a man with thin legs. He gasps for breath some days.

Stuey and I though are in perfect agreement with regard to clothing … it’s the man inside the cocoon of apparel that counts.

Like Pete who works in the local bottle shop. A wise man is Pete, not given to hyperbole or erratic thought .. Pete’s a deep thinker who rarely changes his socks. Ask me how I know?

Pete doesn’t change his socks often and I don’t change my t-shirts hardly ever, it’s a prideful thing known only to surfers of ancient days. Most times when I’m checking out a two litre bottle of Bacardi we discuss these matters, Pete and I / Pete and Pete .. these matters of intellectual wealth, and in doing so we sometimes chuckle and chaff at the more mundane matters of this poor planet, like the visions of those ludicrous specimens of power who would enslave nations.
Though, when we gaze upon these fragile old despots what is most disconcerting is the sight of the next generation of them breathing down their necks.

Nothing changes.

Featured pic is Alexander Lukashnko, the President of Belarus .. rumoured to be unwell and in need of medical intervention. The ghosts by his side look ready for judgement.




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