I strode down the high street with arms full of carrier bags...

looking for all the world like I'd be more at home, sat under a tree with a bottle of VP sherry in a brown paper bag.

Impervious to peoples' stares, I staggered into the car park, stuffed the booty in the back of my oh so trendy, scratch black Smart car (What makes you think I LOVE MY CAR?) and dived into Waitrose to do the weekly shop.
Tramps don't do a weekly shop I know, but I'm trying to paint a picture with words...
so bare (or is it bear?) with me. Okay?


Trolling round my bestest in the www supermarket I got in the way of a young woman.  I could see her in my periphery vision; as I negotiate my way through life in this manner why change tactics in a super-duper store.  Elephants in china shops springs to mind.  As I turned to apologise she said that she had watched me walking up the high street as she drove by and thought...
Wait for it...
how elegant I looked and that she loved my outfit.........
What?
Bag lady me, down and out, not even in London nor yet Paris.  I ask you!  What's the blooming world coming to?