The consolations of literature

[desperance]

In other news, the man at my table has taken his shoes off. I guess he's settling in for the day. Which is unfortunate, as I have to finish this story before 7pm and he is entirely in my eyeline and I am spending far too much time beaming hatred in his direction. Which he apparently doesn't even notice. Why are my eyes not lasers?

However, old pleasures come bubbling through. There's a line in Tom Brown's Schooldays where the boys take off their top hats and tailcoats to play Rugby football, "and those who meant real work their waistcoats too." I have always adored the idea of playing rugby in waistcoats.