I simply must tell you of the young woman we saw on the train from Edinburgh to London. She was perhaps 22 or 23 and was wearing a dress that only an infant girl or 22 or 23-old could wear successfully. It consisted of multiple ruffles of eyelet lace from the very top to the very bottom, which considering how short it was, was very few ruffles indeed.
She slept most of the journey which left a good portion of her hindquarter exposed and just a narrow aisle's distance away from John. Had he not been a gentleman, he could have easily reached over and helped her cover her cellulite-free long bones with a blanket had I actually knitted one in time. Since I had not, John worked very hard to maintain an eyes-forward position, only glancing in that direction when admiring the free cake on the food cart ("Oooooh, free cake!"). Bless him.
When we arrived at her stop (York, if I remember correctly), she gathered her rucksack from the top shelf - narrowly avoiding exposure of yet more flesh. While attempting to hoist the rucksack upon her shoulder, however, she managed to expose what she'd kept hidden during the lowering of her pack. While the shortness of the ruffles caused the "ladies of a certain age," myself included, to do a bit of a H-rumph! (did I mention she was also wearing boots? oh pul-LEASE!), I did happen to notice that while she exited the train (not that I was staring or throwing daggers with my eyes you understand) she assisted an elderly lady with her suitcase.
I've obviously over-estimated our hand basket's position relative to h-e-double toothpick. Old dogs can be taught to accept young girls in ruffly dresses. Who knew?
All for now, more later.