There is something about a woman in a short dress. The way the dress stops and her legs just start. And when the wind blows against her, stretching the fabric across her body, the world collectively holds its breath. …
There is a gentleman waiting at the reception. You may notice his shoes first; brogues. Brown. Well worn. Scruffy in that deceptively fashionable way. You notice he has on beige Dockers, the colour of a wet anthill, folded at …
