Dance away the heartache


There were two young women sitting at tables near me in Costa yesterday, both hard at work on their laptops. A bit like working from home in your PJs, women embrace the notion of working in comfortable/pleasant surroundings. Though I do wonder how much is actual work and how much is shopping online – but these two do look very dedicated and focused, notebooks out and earplugs in, typing away.
Me? I’m having a medium mocha latte and a cherry and almond muffin. I’ve got my notebook out too, and have already filled a couple of pages.
Outside it is absolutely peeing down – this is the kind of rain that leads to widespread flash-flooding.
One of the young women, can’t be more than 22 or 24, is trading stocks! She’s just been talking to a client, advising them what to buy. No wonder she can afford that big gold watch she’s wearing and those rather nice boots, and that bag.

I so need to sort my life out!
But in the dimly lit background, if I tune out the crashing and banging from the baristas, I can hear the classic Roxy Music track crooning away and I am taken back to Then. “You’re dressed to kill, and guess who’s dying. Dance away …”

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