embarrassedI had gone to the high street in search of a new winter coat. I'd had a slight accident with my old Benetton this weekend; and after careful consideration, I could suddenly understand where the protests of my family and the pitying looks I've been receiving from strangers when wearing my trusty old wax coat come from. It's falling apart. What can you expect from a coat that has been glued to your back since the early nineties, and that cost you 20 quid at Kenmare market? It's battered, tattered, ripped and torn and all the wax in the world isn't going to keep the wind and rain out now. With winter approaching fast, I found myself without a coat, and so off to the shops I went. But I couldn't find a coat I liked; wherever I went, it seemed all they had were these parka models with fake fur hoods and I don't fancy me one of those.
I don't know how I ended up in that shoe shop. But I do know that I'm my own purse's worst enemy.
