Entry for July 12, 2007

A couple of weeks ago I bought an orange T shirt from a shop called Fat Face in St Andrew. It's sort of surfing wear. That was back in the carefree days of my late thirties and at that time I looked cool and hip, and could still carry off the youthful togs with something of a swagger; a swagger that said, "Hey - that hint of grey at my temples, only adds mystery, and speaks of the thirty foot waves I have crested in my years of experience on the beaches of Hawaii."
However, now that I am forty, I am concerned that I am Sue Barker dressed as Anna Kournakova. I am also concerned that, following the festival of eating that my birthday celebrations have turned into (I have had TWO birthday cakes so far), that the logo "Fat Face" does not have the same ironic twist as it does when worn by young and lithe surfers in Newquay. For me, I am afraid that the sobriquet has more than a faint whiff of the literal.
In fact, now that I study myself in the mirror, in my orange t shirt I fear that I bear more than a passing resemblance to a Space Hopper. I may go now and list myself on e-bay as a retro toy from the Seventies.