I woke up to the morning sky first

[sovay]

Greetings! I am aboard the hell o'clock train, otherwise known as the regional Amtrak; it is my intention for the day to see how much I can sleep in the quiet car. Right now there are some very beautiful streamers and shells of cloud in the dawn-faded blue of the sky, a kind of hand-gilding light on the passing verticals of bricks and concrete. Everything is so much greener than even the last time I took this line: the trees are bursting out like summer, not just blossoming. It is not fair of me to think that the man who just took a seat diagonal of me looks like he should be walking across a stage in that grey business suit and glasses, a briefcase in one hand and a bright red umbrella in the other. Further bulletins as consciousness warrants.

Comments

[ethelmay]

"She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy..."

[sovay]

"She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy..."

I've decided he must know the woman on the platform at Penn Station who was wearing an olive-green silk boiler suit.

[ethelmay]

There is an Angela Thirkell wartime Barsetshire book in which a woman wanders around in a boiler suit, which people keep commenting on, "though why a boiler suit, I do not know," which I read long before I knew what a boiler suit (or for that matter a boiler) was. I was picturing a skirted suit made of boiled wool, which I thought might seem unpatriotic due to being associated with Austria. Come to think of it, we even had a boiler in our house, but we always just called it the furnace.

[sovay]

I was picturing a skirted suit made of boiled wool, which I thought might seem unpatriotic due to being associated with Austria.

That makes a certain amount of sense!

I still have some disjoint between clothes I recognize from reading about them and clothes I have seen people wear.