A damp, dull day. Puddles and smeary skies. I don't know why, but something about it reminds me of walking to the shops with my mother when I was small. Tom in the pushchair, and me holding onto one of the side supports for security. Mum had a raincoat that was slate blue glazed cotton, sheeny with waterproofing. It had big silver Pop Art buttons, domed and shiny - fascinating fish-eye worlds. I loomed at them, to see my distorted spoon-face reflection. Pete Townsend nose and cartoon eyes.
Today is a 'business dress' day. I feel trussed up like a ready-to-roast chicken as I travel to Fenchurch Street. I am with a group of people who are also in 'business dress'. For this, read 'unflattering machine-washable tailoring, in uniform monochrome'. Which pretty much matches their behaviour. They are a guarded and anxious lot, reluctant to speak out, and tense in their seats for the first twenty minutes. Does the dull clothing inspire the dull attitude? Or does the dull attitude inspire the dull clothing?
I find it hard to imagine they'd behave like this if they were wearing robes. Business robes. Embellished with talismanic symbols, and big silver Pop Art buttons. How much better would a meeting be if you could SWISH into it?
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat that's red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat 'cause I feel cold
I find it hard to imagine they'd behave like this if they were wearing robes. Business robes. Embellished with talismanic symbols, and big silver Pop Art buttons. How much better would a meeting be if you could SWISH into it? 
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