A new kind of useless


Wahey! A new level of horribleness! Whose very triviality somehow ups the horribleness. Of all brainless things, it’s a wardrobe crisis – but any help would be gratefully received. What, pray, does one wear to one’s mother’s memorial service?

Absolute denial that it’s happening has been great so far, but eventually, like it or not, Saturday 3pm will arrive, and I’d better be wearing something. Can I honestly bear to drag myself around town telling shop assistants warily that no, I don’t need any help when really I want to stand on a chair and shout yes yes yes, I want help with EVERYTHING.

I tried it yesterday, useless, and found myself stumbling down Long Acre, flattened by jolly ice cream-shaded sundresses and wistful Abba tracks. Though here’s a tip: there are plenty of little alleys up which to pop for snivel-and-regroup manoeuvres.

And the unsettled weather forecast is not helping – not one little bit.


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