Greetings! Did you miss this story?
Well, it's baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. (^_^) I have not forgotten it, nor those who inspire me to write it.
Thank you to Teish for testy women, Clio1792 for Indian food, and to Cairistona and Pimpernel Princess for getting me (metaphorically speaking) off my butt and writing this story again.
It took a couple of hours, several trips for me back and forth to the men's clothing section, and. . . (swallowing my pride) enlisting the help of the changing room attendant, but eventually Blakeney did decide that wearing modern clothes would not kill him, and that he didn't look utterly ghastly in them either.
Quite the contrary, when he finally emerged from the changing room, I was pleased to note that he looked rather good in the clean lines of modern men's wear, and since he had condescended to brush his hair differently and wear the sunglasses instead of that monocle on a stick, he was quite respectable, and more than a little dashing. I smiled happily. In no way would I be embarrassed to stand next to him in a public place, and I could, no doubt, easily pass for his friend - he blended in quite well now.
Or at least his clothes did.
"Demme Sarah," he said, turning and twisting in front of the mirror, obviously preening, "Maybe 'tisn't all so bad. . . what?"
"Gosh, yes," I said, putting deliberate emphasis on the slang word, "Modern clothing suits you. . . though if you still want something dressy, you will have to talk to Mike about it. . . I am rather less than well versed in formal clothing for men - sorry about that. . . I guess I should have warned you. . ."
Mentioning Mike had not been the wisest thing to do. . . I was getting more nervous by the hour about explaining all this to him - but fortunately Blakeney did not notice.
"I say, Sarah," Blakeney asked, finally satisfied with his present appearance, "Does anyone still wear hats these days?"
"Not really," I said, tiredly lugging the great armload of rejected clothes to the attendant - who really had been unexpectedly patient throughout the whole ordeal, "Unless you are a cowboy or a baseball player - or a cop, I suppose. . . or Michael Jackson. . . but that's neither here nor there," I added hurriedly, seeing that he was looking confused and about to ask some embarrassing questions, "The point is that yes, you can wear a hat, but no it will not be what most people do. I'm sorry."
He sighed. "There is just is no telling what turn fashion will take. . ." he looked sorrowful. I thought for a minute that maybe the world had been a more interesting place with people like Blakeney setting the fashions, but that I was also sure of one thing - people who set fashions were just odd - it didn't matter what time they were from.
"True, now let me pay for all this. . ." I quickly handed over my credit card, "and then we can grab some lunch and find that coin shop."
He brightened up at the mention of food - or maybe it was the mention of the coin shop, because he looked rather disapproving at me paying for everything all the time.
I shook my head. Really. Gentlemen. Sometimes they could be a real pain. . .
We began to walk around the now somewhat crowded mall, and he looked about eagerly, "I saw a sign back there. . . somewhere. . ." he waved vaguely, "while we were taking the escalator, Sarah - it said "Curry Tasters" - Is that what I think it is?"
"I literally have no idea what you think it is, Blakeney," I said, only a little sarcastically, "but it IS a restaurant in the food court where we can get a fantastic naan and Tandoori chicken - that going to sit alright with you?"
"Yes, of course," he said blandly, flipping all our purchases into two shopping bags and lifting them easily into the cart, "Sound's ideal, if we could get away from all the noise. . ."
Knowing I was about to let myself in for a round of questions, I said, "We'll get it to go."
He opened his mouth to reply, but I never heard what he was about to say, for then the world spun, and a bright white pain spread across the back of my head. Someone had knocked me down, taken my purse, and set off running.