Everyday, as the sun sets and I slog off to the U-bahn I am full of a warm glow. I am a happy man.
A very busy man, with next to no vegetating time, but a happy man none the less. Which is kind of funny, as half of all my leisure hours are spent on picking vegetation off my wooly cardy.
Not pretty I know. It’s the chestnut trees at the kindergarten. They nestle into my cardi, maybe for the warmth. The only thing apart from elbow grease that removes them in the magical attraction they have to Anna’s lovely white sofa covers.
This also explains the odd looks I get on the train sometimes. Wearing my huge hand made cardi, coated with leaves from playing in the sandpit with the little ones, I step into a carriage of white-collar workers and they give me the:-
‘that man must be wearing a fancy-dress costume, there is, after-all, no other explanation, but I can’t for the life of me make out which pop-culture reference he is alluding to’.
No, I’m not a vagrant. I simple love that my lady made me a cardi, that I can run around in the sun with a tribe of little people, and haven’t got the impulse to dress like an armani advert.
So today I am going out guns-blazing.
The t-shirt we contact printed together. Magic hedgerow memories.