Short Story - July 2007

Fit

I don’t really understand Pat’s popularity particularly with younger women. Pat’s quite old, ‘elderly’ they’d call her on Radio 4 News. Fifty two – younger than me but to be honest you wouldn’t think it.
            For instance – last Thursday. We’d been invited, (along with about a hundred and fifty other women of our ilk), to the launch of a famous lesbian chanteuse’ autobiography.
            Fancy dress was optional but of course we both dressed up. The two of us, (we’re not a couple, never were, never will be), are known for our fondness for costume which our other friend Joan, (who’s been in and out of therapy for years) says can often signify a dislike of ‘self’.
            I thought I looked pretty spiffing in a Burton suit, double breasted, wide lapelled, purchased from my local charity shop, shirt and tie also from the same establishment. I’d borrowed my brother’s natty brown trilby. I’m still fairly slim and above average height so I can carry off a bit of cross dressing rather successfully. I’d travelled up to London on the train and sensed that the glances I got from my few fellow passengers were curious but not uncomplimentary.

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