Sunday, April 24, 2005

And The It Was Decreed That Burberry Should Not Be Worn On The Sabbath

And Then It Was Decreed That Burberry Should Not Be Worn On The Sabbath

This afternoon I had to go round to David's* flat to drop off some books. Before I get on to my story proper, as an aside I'll say that this is not normal practice. What if I was deranged and wanted to stalk the man? Or, at the very least, drop insults about Pinter into his letterbox? He'd be buggered given that he emailed me a step by step account on how to get to where he lives.

Sun shining down I set off with the books and the video of - you guessed it - Pinter and was halfway up Banbury road, just shuddering as I passed the building that houses the careers centre, when I realised that I'd gone the wrong way. Not hugely the wrong way, but wrong way enough that I was going to have to double back on myself at the next street. The hilarity about this? The fact that I went the way that you have to go when you're driving because of the one way system. But I was on foot. And, anyway, I don't even drive in the first place. Why, then, was I abiding by traffic laws? Really I don't understand myself at times.

On reaching the correct house I stepped into the porch and immediately heard a rather large and disconcerting crunch. The type of crunch that would worry you were you in your own house. When you've just stepped into your tutor's porch it's the type of crunch that has you on bended knee, asking for forgiveness. Bracing myself for what was to come - I looked down. And it immediately became obvious what I'd stood on in my flowered wedges. There, confronting me in a slightly mangled heap:

My sunglasses.

Or, to be correct, my Burberry sunglasses.

Now maybe this is a time to have an aside as to why I have Burberry sunglasses given that Burberry surely is up there with Von Dutch for being the Chav style staple. Well, I'd like to make it known that in the realms of the late nineties, when Burberry started moving away from stiff-upper-lipped gentleman to Kate Moss promoting clothing label, I rather liked Burberry. No, if I'm honest, I loved Burberry. Of course post millennium everyone and their pet dog - unfortunately literally in both cases - loved Burberry. And, however much you love something, when you see Daniella Westbrook wearing it from head to toe, especially something as distinctive as the Burberry check, you immediately have to banish it. But, just as I will never be able to entirely remove my love of ponchos despite events and the horror of mass poncho buying in 2004 , I still have a soft spot for Burberry. And, because it's not as obvious, I still buy their perfume in duty free. So, when I saw a ridiculously cheap pair of Burberry sunglasses, I bought them.

Now, however, the ridiculously cheap Burberry sunglasses had made contact with the bottom of my wedges after falling out of my coat pocket. I can but mourn their passing.

*Who's David?**

**Hilary Term's 20th century drama tutor if I'm honest. You don't get that in the Busted song.

5 comments:

Nik said...

We still cannot get over the Burberry sunglasses, especially after the Playboy jumper shock of the other day...

Love Nik, Anna and Gilly

gayle said...

I thought David was the guy who lived next door?

Nik said...

So did I, maybe he moved?

Sienna B-P said...

Thank goodness.
(Top marks for the wedges though)

Anonymous said...

In some strange coming together of your posting - I have a pair of Burberry wedges.....*lol*