As the bus slung itself around the Green this morning, I saw a middle-aged man standing at the lights. He was wearing sensible black shoes and slouchy grey socks and his tufty grey hair was topped with a jaunty leather cap. He checked something on his phone while he waited for the lights to change, then strode across the road, his bare legs and knobbly knees bristling in the breeze and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his gooch-length cerise pink ladies coat (with bracelet-length sleeves, black buttons and trim).
He looked gorgeous.
He looked gorgeous.
