Regressing.

One of the people I’ve come to like and respect since starting this blog has got herself a new boyfriend. He’s a tall, handsome Irishman with quarterback teeth. And he’s young, of course.

I’m envious. Even when I was his age, I was neither tall, handsome nor Irish, and I didn’t have quarterback teeth. Several women told me I wasn’t handsome; they said my qualities lay in other areas.

‘Other areas…’

‘Let’s call it personality.’

‘Personality… Right.'

I wonder what I did with it. Must go and look in that box in the shed, the one that has a few old toys and Rupert Bear annuals in it. Maybe Tiger Lily is keeping it safe for me, clasped gently between her fingers in that muff thing she used to wear. She was sweet like that.