The trophy masque that
adorns the wall, is over-sized and
somewhat Apollonian in appearance.
Those tight golden curls and slender nose.
The pursed lips and razor-sharp cheek-bones.
And he's winking at me.
With his one empty eye.
I’ve bought a new suit for the occasion.
I’ve tried to learn my lessons from last time.
In the audience are four generations of Plester;
including my 80-year-old grandmother
and my 1-year-old niece. Both of whom
behave themselves impeccably throughout.
Now you know me. Me and Sundays don't really get on.
We rub each other up the wrong way. It's been documented.
Thankfully, today proves an exception to the rule.
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