Still Got The Magic

It seems the circus is in town and, walking home, I took a ‘shortcut’ and ended up around the back of it.

Halfway along, this guy … looking for bathroom/toilet facilities for his little girl … stopped me and asked me if I was with the circus.

HA ha ha ha ha!

Oh, yeah, I’ve still got the magic, alright … disreputable/dodgy/rough-looking as fuck, me — quick, shut the windows and hide the silver … there’s a pikey about ; )

That’s nearly as good as the time I had to go to the Civic Centre to lodge a complaint with the Council and … knowing I was going to have to wait a loooooooong time to see someone … picked up a broadsheet to read whilst I did so.

As I had taken the day off work to do so, I wasn’t suited and booted but dressed in my “I don’t have to pretend today so I’m not dressing up” clothes.

And one of the security guards wandered over to ‘see if I was okay, if there was anything I needed, why I was there …’ and make sure I wasn’t homeless and in off the street.

Which is when I knew I’d got the look down just right.


Some days it’s good to be me — the vindication that my efforts have not been in vain is wonderful. [1]

[1] You don’t think looking like I’m with the circus just happened of it’s own accord, do you? It’s taken me years to get the right wardrobe together so that I can literally reach out, grab the first things that come to hand off the floor or nearby chair/wherever, throw them on without a moment’s thought

… and look like a stylist spent all morning perfecting my outfit.

My T-shirts are designer, custom made for me … my trousers cut about/up and re-styled just for me … my shades from Paris, my fleece from Amsterdam, my pullover from Los Angeles, my shorts from London … I’m a catwalk walking down the street [2].

[2] It’s just that it’s Greebo the cat doing that walk, is all ;D

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