Storyteller's World

bsag reports on the trials of clothes-shopping when you are (like most people, as far as I can see) differently-proportioned from the clothes the designers want to sell you. Last Saturday I was taken off guard while in town with Alison, and succumbed to buying a new pair of shoes (which I did need, as the old ones were letting in the rain) and three sweatshirts which I wasn't so sure about. I had some difficulty settling on the size of these, because they did seem to be designed for someone still possessing the kind of shape I formerly inhabited.

What I didn't discover until this morning was that the shop girl had overlooked one of the security tags. At that point I remembered how strange it had been, going in and out of several shops around Oxford that afternoon, that the people just in front of or behind me in the crush were constantly setting off the alarms. In Borders, HMV - everywhere, in fact, except the shop where I had bought the sweatshirts. And not one of us was stopped in any of them. Saturday is obviously the day to go shoplifting. (You didn't hear this from the vicar, note.)