A playing card is a ridiculous thing to find on the ground; it makes your whole day feel like symbolism.
I drank a latte in a mustard-yellow mug and saucer and ate chocolate shortbread balanced on my knee because the family gathering also seated outside needed the table more than I did, and because doing that is fun. Then it rained. It really rained.
After that it was sunny and I lay on the tennis club grass even though I’m not exactly allowed to, and read a fairly poor book. My dad brought me ginger beer. I was very satisfied.
Soon I shall write a beginner’s guide to roller discos: one of the most important pieces of advice I can give you, which I am, is that you shouldn’t wear a jacket. You will get too hot, and then when you unzip it it will flap around; something flapping around is basically the worst thing you can have when you’re trying to balance. Another piece of advice is that you should never wear anything below the knee. I ignored everything end ended up tucked and rolled and sweaty, out of necessity.
I could’t keep the shirt I had been wearing all day on without my jacket because I am on joking terms with the roller disco proprietor – the stupid unbalanced gender-rule based society we call “British” makes me uncomfortable with the idea of wearing anything that could be called ‘flirtatious’ to a destination controlled by a male that I know.
It looks like I am flashing there, maybe, but I’m not: I just have my hands in my pockets.
On the whole it was a good day. I found a wicker basket with with to gather. Charity shop tip: peer into their stock room when they leave the door open.
Skirt: half a 60s outfit from etsy, orange top: birthday present from sweetie, jacket: Fred Perry from Bicester Village a hundred years ago, t-shirt: British Heart Foundation, shoes: VW Anglomania + Melissa from yoox in 2010