threads

on unearthing new-old things

I held up the hangers in embarrassment - around a dozen in all, clenched between two palms. “I’ve a few more than four,” I apologised to the man behind the cash desk, feeling newly conscious of my round little vowels, my silly little wheelie suitcase.

I breached the “four items max” changing room rule in the British Heart Foundation. It has been so long since I have gone shopping; years, really. Definitely before the baby. I have felt overwhelmed by the high street, I have run out of understanding what I should wear, I have made do with my full-enough wardrobe. But here, in a little charity shop next to a discount food centre, I felt my magpie instinct click back into place.