I blinked and suddenly the store windows had changed, maxi dresses and tiny shorts had been ripped from view and knit wear and cords were hanging from the faceless mannequins. I stood on the high street staring at the rows of shops feeling as if I had been pick pocketed. It was almost as if…
Getting old: Are you too polite to tell me I am turning into a Gorilla….
I don’t consider myself old. I concede that in the eyes of a teenager I am considered to be hammering on death’s door, but in the eyes of the eighty something year old chap who sits on the bench in the park near my house watching the world dance by I am little more than…