blamebrampton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blamebrampton) wrote2009-06-14 11:49 pm
blamebrampton) wrote2009-06-14 11:49 pm
We really need to look in a mirror now and then ...
It was cold and wet in Sydney today (inasmuch as you can call 14C cold, but the wind chill is vicious and there is no central heating to be found), so Mr Brammers and I rugged up and then went out for lunch.
As we walked into the pub (Sunday salmon special!), we attracted some strange looks. I thought little of it at the time, but then Mr Brammers came back from ordering at the bar. I realised that he (all but 6 feet tall and solidly muscled (rugger bugger looking, as opposed to my usual polo prat)) was wearing black jeans, a long-sleeved black top, a black possum-fur beanie, black workboots and black gloves. I began to giggle.
He looked down and declared 'I look like a house breaker!'
I giggled harder.
He shook his head. 'You can't talk. You look like a character from a children's novel.'
I looked down. Oversized-jacket, silk pinafore with flower appliqué, black tights, chunky shoes, looped plaits and a cloche hat with a flower on it.
'Oh god,' I said, realising why people had stared. 'We're Milly Molly Mandy and her hired goon ...'
Mr Brammers proceeded to mutter 'Milly Molly Mandy, mafiosi ...' until the food arrived. It's days like this that keep him from being smothered in his sleep when he fails to do the dishes.
As we walked into the pub (Sunday salmon special!), we attracted some strange looks. I thought little of it at the time, but then Mr Brammers came back from ordering at the bar. I realised that he (all but 6 feet tall and solidly muscled (rugger bugger looking, as opposed to my usual polo prat)) was wearing black jeans, a long-sleeved black top, a black possum-fur beanie, black workboots and black gloves. I began to giggle.
He looked down and declared 'I look like a house breaker!'
I giggled harder.
He shook his head. 'You can't talk. You look like a character from a children's novel.'
I looked down. Oversized-jacket, silk pinafore with flower appliqué, black tights, chunky shoes, looped plaits and a cloche hat with a flower on it.
'Oh god,' I said, realising why people had stared. 'We're Milly Molly Mandy and her hired goon ...'
Mr Brammers proceeded to mutter 'Milly Molly Mandy, mafiosi ...' until the food arrived. It's days like this that keep him from being smothered in his sleep when he fails to do the dishes.
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