Return of the chooky-boots

Somerset: Tuesday September 20, 2005

Today was Graham’s full day off, so Taunton called. And Starbucks, twice.

My main object was to buy a new jacket, a sweater, and a couple of shirts. I’d hoped for a decent pair of trousers, too, but M&S don’t seem to recognize the existence of the senior chubby bloke and had nothing in my waist size. Except jeans and ‘sports’ bottoms. Why people think that jeans are all that the older man wears I do not understand.

In BHS I was amused to see an elderly woman closely studying the large and slightly homo-erotic men’s underwear photos on the walls in the gent’s section. Bless her. Why shouldn’t she?

“He’s quite attractive for a youngie,” Graham said, pointing out a giant full-length poster.

“Nah,” I said. “All pose and no pelvic thrust.”

“It’s good to have you around to put things in a funny light,” Graham said when the hilarity had subsided.

“Thank you. That’s entirely mutual.”


 
All pose and no pelvic thrust

And, truth to tell, though we both had shopping to do and heavy Starbucks deprivation syndrome to rectify, the real reason for our being out and about together was to restore a bit of seeing things in a funny light once more after our period of separation.

Taunton is very much the same, with the only differences being good ones so far as I could see. In the two and a half years since my last visit there’s been a fair amount of quiet improvement, removing the shabby and replacing it with smart modern shops and facilities. I was aware of an increased feeling of prosperity about the place.

It was a hot day, though. Too hot for me. When we went back to the car to store our purchases away, I left my coat behind. I was obviously a little hot and flustered at that stage because I left my pencam behind in my pocket. So the photography was somewhat restricted during the walkabout that followed. I wasn’t too much bothered, to be honest. The pencam is beginning to behave rather erratically anyway.

Funny, that. I’m typically spending my time observing this new/old world intensely, yet I’m not much inclined to take pictures of it. It begins to look as though I shall be going through the whole week without any serious picture making.

It’s as though I’m topping up my visual memories and shall not be ready to take pictures until it’s full.

“Home” to the caravan as the heat of the day peaked.

Dolly has discovered the coolest place, over a ventilation panel in the floor of the main bedroom. She adjusted immediately on arrival, and seems perfectly happy here, almost as if she’s enjoying a break and a change of scene as much as I am. Her delight when Graham appeared on Saturday was a joy to see, and has not abated.

A nice, quiet evening followed, eating a good holiday dinner, downing a bottle of Cabernet, and watching junk TV.

“I’ve had a really nice day,” I said.

“Me too.”

“That’s good, then.”

“You said it, chooky-boots.”

 

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