Fancy Dress Success…
No evidence,
Just the essence
Of a seed of a memory
From my infancy.
Extraordinary.
Legendary.
Directed into a viewing ring,
Fancy dress parade on sand.
Wearing only a napkin, I tottered,
Clutching Fairy soap in a tiny hand.
Cute, apparently, stumbling about,
Stood out, I guess, from the crowd.
Parents, aunts and uncles roared approval,
Simplicity, victory and relatives proud…
No choice,
Just the voice
Of a parent in the vicinity,
In the proximity.
Vexed,
Perplexed…
Pete Ray…
Did I really win something?
How could I lose, dressed in a nappy, carrying a bar of soap?
And there I am, in the image above, staring down at the soap.
My cousins, as pirates were otherwise well dressed...
It’s why fancy dress competitions are pointless…
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