When I felt like a Londoner
No, it wasn’t being morally outraged by children care workers.
No, it wasn’t when I stabbed that man on the bus.
And no, it wasn’t when I apologised to that stupid girl at the oval who bumped into me.
It was when I bought a coat.
A harris & tweed coat.
It’s grey and has more pockets than that elephant god would need.
It cost me 5 quid.
I purchased it at a Jesus Church in South London.
And it is warm.
It’s not like a Melbourne coat that is just designed to stop the Southerly giving you the chills, this is old school warmth, so the lord can check his manor and sodomize a maid in the barn late at night whilst keeping himself at a proper comfort level.
So far my “I need them for London” purchases are, ear bud ear plugs, water proof boots, a cagoule/pakkiemack/portable rain jacket, and this spiffy coat.
This has been by far the best buy I have made in London.
I have always preferred per loved/soiled clothing.
But even more so is the pure Brittianess of it, I feel like saying tally ho every now and then when I wear it.
Ofcourse it’s not all Britannia when I have it on, cause I wear my Collingwood scarf under it.
They suit each other well.
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Have you got the piss smell out of it yet?
Or are you working the smell into it?
It has one of its own, but i am working mine in too.
I forgot the point I was going to make when I read those comments.
Ummm.
Oh yes.
Collingwood. Vomit.