With only a few days to go before the appointment, and a lot of work to fit in between now and then, meeting an agent on Friday doesn’t actually feel very funny right now.
I decided I’d take the daughter up on her offer of a bit of dress shopping (it’s fine, I’ll miss lunch and only visit one shop - no time need be wasted). You understand that I don’t believe that a new dress will hold any particular magical powers, or that I’ll look any better in it than I do in anything else I wear. I don’t even think that what I wear will make any great difference to the agent I’m meeting. A new dress might pick me up, though, polish my confidence a bit... That sort of thing.
It turns out that the daughter no longer has the time to go shopping with me.
“OK,” I asked her. “So, what shall I wear?”
“Trousers,” she said.
“Which ones?” I asked. There came no answer. “What about the grey wool ones?Do you like me in them?”
“Not really,” she said. “You’ll have to buy some new ones.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I don’t like any of the ones you’ve got,” said the daughter.
“So why did you say, ‘trousers’?” I asked. “Why didn’t you pick a skirt”
“Oh,” she said. “I don’t really like you in any of your skirts, either.”
So, that’s that. It looks like I’ll be getting up on Friday and getting dressed, just as I get up and get dressed on any other day. There’s nothing for it. I haven’t got the time to shop, and neither has the daughter, and I’m guessing, if we did find an hour to go shopping together, she wouldn’t pick out anything I’d actually wear, and I wouldn’t pick out anything she’d like me in.
So much for polishing my confidence.