It rained for a hundred hours and each minute that passed the Earth's pleas for water quelled that drop more. In puddles birds bathed, foxes lapped and hooves splashed. The sip and slurp of roots thick and fine drinking in the sweet ambrosia almost audible over the pitter-patter of drips on leathery leaves.
I bought an embroidered shirt because it was on sale and I liked the sleeves. The fact that I had no idea of when to wear it passed me by. For £7 I was easily sold. It turns out I have one plan and that's to wear it with my most nostalgic pair of bootcut jeans. Back in the noughties I pretty much lived in bootcut jeans and let's face it, they were a heck of a lot more comfortable and flattering than the skinnyfit wonders we shoehorn ourselves into this decade. Pah! Let's go back to the good old days of a kick flare.
Maybe a little knot at the waist to jazz things up a little.
It rained while we forayed in the forêt thus we were stranded under the shelter of the trees. A natural umbrella of green canopy. Peering out at the pouring rain was as far as we got until it slowed and we beat a hasty retreat back to the car. There's only one little benefit and that's to my hair; a light dousing of rainwater works wonders on it's curl and sets it just how I like it.
Bootcut jeans or skinnyfit?
Take care,
Sophie
