We lunched in the Italian in Heaton
Park and by way of conversation I asked Fester what he might be wearing to The
Squireen's forthcoming birthday bash.
At teatime, while we were watching
Pointless, he announced
"A pair of decent shoes, trousers and a shirt should do
it."
Do what?
"The Squireen's
party."
Not
those shoes you've got on?
"No,
I said decent shoes."
Well,
I'm not certain of your definition of decent. Never mind dear I'll choose the
shirt. It's not worth choosing a tie because it wouldn't be seen under the
beard.
"Tie!
She's not dead is she?"
Would
you wear a tie to her funeral if she were?
"Good
grief no."
I suppose I should be grateful that
he wore a tie (albeit a bow one) to our wedding.
But I'm beginning to wonder
whether he's grown the beard so he's never forced to do so again.
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