CC had her three amigos down visiting from Manchester so after waking up early for a Saturday morning, dragging on a pair of shorts and falling back to sleep on a blanket in the sunshine outside our back door, I met these lovely ladies in Westbourne Gardens. One of CC’s colleagues lives there and was hosting a picnic. It was great fun and a beautifully warm day for it (finally after a fortnight of rain). We couldn’t help noticing how rounded our northern knees were in comparison to the well-spoken ladies whose company we kept.
In the evening we went to watch Blood Brothers and were upgraded from the Upper Circle to the Stalls. It’s a nature vs. nurture story questioning whether class makes a difference to the way our lives turn out.
Aftewards we wondered whether the fact that we were all on the shorter side than our coltish picnic colleagues, and our knees were more rounded, was because our ancestors were poor malnourished potato-diggers and we’d inherited their physical make up. It would be nice to be able to blame our minor physical imperfections and the gripes we have with our appearances on the British class system.
B would say this is evidence of the chop I have on my northern shoulder. I would argue it’s an area for valid biological study.