I have no time to write in the day and I’m too tired in the evenings. I’m not sleeping well, but going to bed early doesn’t help – it just means I’m wide awake again at midnight instead of at 3 am. So blogging may be spasmodic, but I’m still about.
Yesterday, I drove over to Framlingham, where I’d been told of a lovely dress shop. I invited the Sage along for the ride and thought he’d wait for me in the pub before we had lunch, but he wanted to come with me. The lovely shop owner found him a chair and a newspaper to read and we went off to choose clothes to try on.
The first dress fitted me perfectly, looked good but wasn’t quite dressy enough. The second dress and coat was very nice and I might have chosen it. The third was lovely for an evening, but not quite for a wedding. Number four was the one. I knew and, as soon as the Sage saw it, so did he. He immediately said I had to have it – this is a man who is singularly uninterested in my clothes normally.
It was expensive, but worth it. The hat and shoes were pure extravagance. I’ve had to revert to my practice of evaluating clothes in terms of a piece of Lowestoft china. The ensemble cost a good sparrowbeak jug. What was also a pleasure was that every dress fitted – she didn’t ask my size (and I don’t know what size the dresses were, they didn’t have them marked) but judged me by eye.
If you’re prepared to buy dresses starting at around £160, I can heartily recommend Darcy B in Fram or Woodbridge.