Tarts and Toffs
After an evening out Michael, Dora, Nigel and Penny come home for some extra fun.
Looking at my reflection in the tall mirror, I can’t help but giggle at the absurdity. A sixty-nine‑year-old woman dressed as a mediaeval wench — or rather, the modern fantasy of one. My plain, dark blue bodice and skirt are paired with a ruffled cream blouse, far finer than anything a real wench could have afforded. Still, I rather like the way the neckline lifts my décolletage. The men will approve, I’m sure. Michael’s...