‘The coats represent the last two suitors who came seeking the hand of the beautiful Eliza, daughter of farmer Brown.’ read Crisp, my aged companion.
We stood at the old gate looking at the coats flapping in the breeze, and the story and image gave Crisp cause to reminisce.
“I had the same issue with my father,” she said, “He made it clear I wasn’t going to marry any fellow who came sniffing around. He’d vet every boy and so none were suitable. He’d sent them away. It was very disappointing. So as no one was a match, I missed the boat as they say. Left a wall flower. And here I am, hanging out with you, the closest I’ve come to being with a man.” She said this looking at me with the same air of disappointment.
“It’s all history now. Let’s get on morning teas your shout.”